


Kidnap My Heart (Shackle My Soul)

by whenshewrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, Captive, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is a Failwolf, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Get Together, Hostage Situation, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapping, Kinda, Kinda Creepy Peter Hale, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mild torture, Pack Wars, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Scott McCall is a puppy, Slow Burn, Sorta Mafia Setting, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, The Alpha Pack, oblivious idiots, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Stiles just wanted a fun night out. Instead, he gets kidnapped off the streets and thrown into the middle of the Hale and McCall feud, because everyone knows a little human is no threat. And of course, it's just Stiles' luck his captor resembles a Greek god.But he's not gonna fall for him. He's not.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 271
Kudos: 686





	1. Surprise!

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles wanted to party, Peter had different ideas, and Derek doesn't know how to deal with hostage situations.

Derek didn’t know what he expected when Peter said he had a surprise in the back of his car. He generally ignored his uncle, but Peter was hard to shake off when he fixated on something. So now Derek stood in the dark parking lot as his uncle crackled, fingers trailing over the trunk door handle.

“Peter,” Derek said, utterly unimpressed. “Get on with it.”

Peter pouted. “I always try to do nice things for you, nephew, and you throw them back in my face. Aren’t you even the smallest bit curious to see what’s back here?”

“No,” Derek said flatly. “But I’d like to enjoy the rest of my night, so show me what you got or I’m going back inside.”

“So grouchy,” Peter clucked, unlocking the car. He popped the back open without preamble and Derek narrowed his eyes as his gazed inside— then froze. 

That was— no, fuck no. His uncle was crazy, but he wasn’t that crazy _.  _ Was he? Of course, he was. Derek would be a fool for thinking otherwise. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon reached Derek’s nose and he pulled back, staring at his uncle’s ‘surprise’ in shock. 

“Do you like him?” Peter asked, nothing other than gleeful. Derek blinked once, twice, and tore his gaze away.

“Peter, why did you kidnap a child?”

“He’s hardly a child,” Peter scoffed, looking back at the boy. “I did my research. He’s nearly twenty-two.”

Derek looked back. The boy didn’t  _ look  _ nearly twenty-two, with pale mole covered skin and messy brown hair. He was unconscious, bound at the hands and ankles with duct tape, and with a piece over his mouth too. There was a purple bruise forming beneath one eye and an old red sweatshirt hanging off his scrawny frame. 

“Peter,” Derek said dangerously calm, turning back to his uncle. “Why is there a twenty-year-old in the trunk of your car?”

“Because,” Peter chuffed, his eyes glinting. “He’s more than that, dear nephew. He’s the surprise.”

“Return him.”

“He’s not a t-shirt, Derek, I can’t take him back to the store for a refund. Besides,” Peter suddenly looked mischievous. “I think you’ll want to keep this one.”

“Why.”

“Because he’s Scott McCall’s second,” Peter said with a grin. “Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek’s gaze whipped back to the unconscious kid. Stiles made a low groaning noise at the back of his throat and shifted slightly, eyelids fluttering. But he didn’t wake, heartbeat remaining as calm as ever. It wasn’t likely to stay that way for much longer, though.

“Like I said,” Peter said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Surprise.”

Derek scowled.

He was sorely tempted to reiterate his order; to have his uncle take the scrawny kid back to where he got him from. But that would be foolish. The Hale and McCall packs had been at each other’s throats since the McCall’s moved into Hale territory. Sure, New York was big, but not enough for the both of them. Yet, six months had passed and Derek’s betas still hadn’t figured out a single thing about Scott McCall. Or his pack.

“Do you think he’ll talk?” Derek asked, eyeing Stiles. Peter snorted. 

“I think there are ways to make him, nephew. But he’s leverage if nothing else. What do you think Scott McCall would do to get his second back?”

Derek didn’t answer, but his wolf howled in satisfaction. Peter didn’t often make good decisions, but he’d done well with this one. It might just be the first time Derek actually appreciated something his uncle did. 

He grunted and turned around. “I’ll send Erica down to get him.”

Derek could  _ smell  _ Peter’s smugness. But he only rolled his eyes, not looking back. Derek had never actually taken a hostage before. He didn’t know how things like that worked. But this was a kid, barely even a man. He couldn’t be that difficult to deal with, right?

Derek had never been so wrong.

* * *

Stiles woke up feeling like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his brain. 

He squeezed his eyes tight and groaned, trying to sit up. But something clanged and Stiles found himself immobile, eyes flying open. It took him about two seconds to realize he was propped up against a wall, hands duct-taped together and a chain wrapped around his ankle. He startled and it clanged again.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” Stiles looked around in panic, noting the faint light streaming through the window. He was in a bedroom and the chain attached to his ankle stretched across the carpet, where it was locked around a leg of the bed. The room was empty. His head continued to pound. 

Stiles frantically tried to remember everything about the past night. 

He’d gone out for a good time at the local gay club. Scott hadn’t come, too enamored with Allison like always, and Lydia had pointedly turned him down. The club wasn’t too far from their loft, so he’d walked. Stiles didn’t think he’d made it there. Or maybe he had, and he’d not made it back. The rest of the night had Stiles drawing a blank.

He doubled over and groaned, burying his face in his hands. This was just perfect. He should’ve been carrying his bat. Everyone knew you didn’t wander around New York’s streets at night without a weapon, especially on the side of town where their loft was. It was the only area they could rent out an entire three-floored loft without spending a fortune.

Surely, the pack would have realized he was missing by now. Stiles always kept in touch. He’d even created a buddy system a while back, which had worked great until Liam had gotten paired with Hayden and had a nervous breakdown. They couldn’t be too careful, especially with the enemy pack (as Scott referred to them) in the area.

Stiles didn’t even know who’d taken him. There’d just been the sound of a car door slamming, and then an explosion of pain in the back of his head. 

Stiles tried not to panic. What if he’d been abducted by a serial killer? Or a rapist? Was he going to be the next sob story on the local news? Oh god, his dad was never going to forgive him. Scott would never be the same. There’d be no one left to tell Liam what a disappointment he was.

Suddenly, the door opened. 

Stiles’ head snapped up and a man stepped into the room. No, not a man. A Greek god. It made sense that Stiles’s captor would be drop-dead gorgeous, with a perfectly sculpted body, grey-green eyes, and stubble that Stiles wouldn’t mind rubbing his face all over. If things had been different, of course. He was desperate but he wasn’t that desperate.

The man froze as he saw Stiles sitting up. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then the door closed, making the man jolt. 

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah, asshole, I’m awake,” Stiles snarled, jerking on his duct-taped hands and chained ankle. It clanged again. That was going to get annoying fast. “What the fuck do you want from me? Money? Sexual pleasures? Because I’m downright broke and not attracted to the whole ‘abducting off the streets’ and ‘serial killer eyebrows’ thing you’ve got going on.”

His captor reeled back, looking disgusted. Stiles tried not to let that get under his skin. He wasn’t that bad looking, after all. “I don’t want anything like that,” the Greek god said, taking a step forward. Stiles shied back and his captor stilled, lifting one hand. “I just have some questions.”

“We couldn’t have done this over coffee? You seriously need to work on your social skills, dude.”

“Derek,” the guy said. Stiles blinked at him. “My name’s Derek, not dude.”

“Oh, joy, my psychotic kidnapper has a name.”

Derek’s features tightened. Stiles had to remind himself that he didn’t have the upper hand here and it probably wasn’t a good idea to piss off his captor. But he couldn’t help it. It was easy to ramble when he was terrified.

Would Scott have picked up his scent yet? Stiles really hoped he’d be out of here soon. It wasn’t like Derek could prepare for the fact that he’d kidnapped an Alpha werewolf’s second, after all. The poor guy was probably going to be scarred for life when Scott came in, fangs out and eyes glowing.

Wait, poor guy? No, not poor guy. Derek had  _ kidnapped _ him.

“So, questions,” Stiles said, shifting into a more comfortable position. He’d milk this out for as long as could, at the very least. “What do you want to know?”

Derek narrowed his eyes, but Stiles was being completely honest. Besides, what could Derek possibly want to know? Where Stiles got his awesome shirts? How he managed to be so attractive and quirky at the same time? What kind of lotion he used that kept his skin so silky smooth? Okay, that last one would be a little weird.

“I want to know about the McCall pack,” Derek said. Stiles froze.

“What?”

“Scott McCall,” Derek repeated, crossing his arms. “I want to know about him and his pack.”

“Pack?” Stiles laughed weakly. “I think you’re a little confused, dude. A group of people is usually called buddies or friends. Not that I even know a Scott McCall. My only friends are my fridge, TV, and Xbox. In that order.”

Derek growled at the back of his throat. Stiles watched his eyes change— bleed to red— and his heart stopped. Stiles was hit with the sudden realization of who his captor was. And he realized there was probably no way Scott was going to be coming to the rescue very soon. 

“You’re the Alpha of the Hale pack.”

“Like I said before,” Derek said threateningly. “I’d like to know about the McCall pack.”

“Fuck you.”

Derek’s eyes widened at the response. Terror had engulfed Stiles’ chest, but he forced himself to remain steadfast. He wasn’t here for money or a ransom, he realized. He was here as leverage. As a hostage. And possibly, depending on what exactly they wanted, much worse.

“There are a few ways this could go,” Derek said, regaining his composure. “We could make your stay very comfortable, or things could get a lot worse.”

“Like what, you’ll switch out the duct tape for more chains? Break out the torture? Glare me to death?”

“Two of those could be arranged.”

Stiles gulped. He did his best to remain calm, knowing the Alpha could hear his heartbeat, but it was pounding like a war drum against his chest. Still, Stiles clenched his jaw and raised his chin. “Fuck. You.”

Derek growled. He took a step forward, which Stiles flinched away from, but then stopped. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes when Stiles looked back up. He glared at Stiles and his duct tape and chain like  _ they  _ were the problem, before turning toward the door. Stiles stared in shock and Derek glanced back one more time before leaving.

“Think about your answer a little longer. Not everyone in my pack is forgiving as I.”

The door slammed at his back. And Stiles was left in silence.


	2. Hostage? Situations?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is panicking, Erica isn't as comforting as she thinks, and Derek doesn't know what the hell to do.

Stiles did think longer about his answer. And came up with the idea that if he pretended Derek didn’t exist, maybe the Alpha would leave him alone. Or kill him quickly. Though option number one was preferable over option number two.

Stiles startled when the door opened again, but it wasn’t Derek this time. A blonde-haired woman came in with a plate of food and smirked at him, crouching down at his side. Stiles looked at the food, then at the deadly light in her eyes, and decided he’d rather have Derek. This chick looked like she wanted to eat him alive.

“I’m Erica,” she said, smirking. “And I’m gonna take care of you, little guy.”

“Not little,” Stiles said, frowning. Erica laughed and unsheathed a claw, making him yelp and scramble back. Ignoring his panic, she grabbed his wrists and sliced through the duct tape, before setting the plate down at his side.

“You’re like a stick,” she said, sitting down beside him. “I could break you in half with one hand.”

“Gee, thanks. That’s reassuring.”

“Don’t worry,” Erica grinned. “I won’t do anything unless Derek orders me to. And he’s too busy moping around to make any logical orders right now.”

“Moping?” Stiles raised a brow.

“He doesn’t know how to deal with hostage situations.”

“You could always let me go,” Stiles said hopefully. Erica barked a laugh, as if that was the funniest thing in the world. 

“And why would we do that? You’re so much more useful here.”

Stiles glowered, looking at the food between them. He wanted to say Scott wouldn’t risk his pack’s safety for him, but he knew she’d be able to hear the lie. In truth, Scott was too self-sacrificing for his own good. He’d try to be a hero and end up putting them all in danger. And Stiles didn’t trust seeing him and Derek in the same room together. That was asking for bloodshed.

Stiles hoped it would take Scott a long time to figure out where he was. And hopefully by that point, Stiles would have escaped. Or been taken out of the equation altogether.

Shit, when did his thoughts get so dreary?

“Isaac made sandwiches,” Erica said, nodding to the plate. “He’s a terrible cook, but not so bad with already half-prepared meals. Derek didn’t say anything about your feeding schedule, but humans need to eat too. Puny little creatures.”

“Are you a born wolf then?”

“No,” Erica grinned, showing her fangs. “But I was an even punier human than you, little guy.”

“My name is Stiles,” Stiles groused. Erica’s eyes twinkled.

“And that name is so pathetically terrible, I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Well, you’re bringing me lunch, so clearly you feel kinda sorry for me. It’s just a matter of time before I get under your skin and convince you to help me escape,” Stiles said, reaching for a sandwich. He actually doubted that, but there was always a chance. He considered himself highly likable, after a few hundred conversations or so.

“Sure,  _ Stiles,”  _ Erica said. “Except Derek would probably kill me.”

Stiles felt his stomach sink. Suddenly, the sandwich in his mouth didn’t taste so good. He lowered it and swallowed hard. “What are the chances he’ll kill me?”

“Right now? Fifty-fifty.”

“And in the possible future?”

Erica shrugged, looking unconcerned about his terribly low survival chances. “Even higher.”

Oh, great, that was just fantastic. Stiles lost his appetite, dropping the half-eaten sandwich back onto the plate. He’d been hoping he could outlast Derek. He’d been kidnapped before, after all, and that usually worked. He just had to talk or be distracting until the situation changed.

But that wouldn’t be helpful if he was dead in a few days— or hours? Shit.

“You don’t have to do much,” Erica said, seeing his face. “Just tell us what you know about the McCall pack. Their numbers, their location, what kind of supernatural creatures you’ve got littering your ranks. We’ve heard McCall runs a bit of an unusual pack.”

“And if I did talk? What would Derek do?”

“Depends,” Erica said, shrugging.

“Depends on what?”

“On whether or not they pose a threat. If they were willing to leave New York and if Derek thought his reputation could take the hit of letting an entire pack walk free.”

“So he’d kill them,” Stiles said flatly. 

“Maybe.”

“Or we’d kill you.”

Erica looked at him, startled. Then her eyes changed to golden and she bared her teeth, in what Stiles thought was a laugh. “Oh, little guy, you’d try.”

Stiles shuddered. Yeah, he had faith in their pack. But they were also a bunch of teenagers. He and Scott had only just graduated college and the rest of the pack was just entering. Hell, Liam was basically still a child.

Stiles might be biased on that opinion.

“Anyway, I should get going before Derek starts to get suspicious,” Erica said, pushing herself up. She left the plate of sandwiches behind, but Stiles wasn’t hungry anymore. The blonde gave him a piteous look before patting him on the head.

“You’re just human, little guy. Don’t throw yourself under the bus for some wolves. They can either defend themselves, or they don’t deserve to be a pack at all.”

Stiles glared at her back. The door closed with an ominous click.

He resisted the urge to scream, then. When coming to the city in the first place, the idea of keeping the pack together had been a good one. New York was full of surprises and second chances. Though a pack war had never been something Stiles expected. 

How was he supposed to protect his pack if all these psycho werewolves were out for blood? Stiles curled in on himself and tried not to panic. His chain clanged, again. 

Biting down on his arm, Stiles did scream then.

* * *

Derek didn’t want anything to do with Stiles. 

He didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to listen to his heartbeat, jack-rabbiting just a few floors up. Derek had thought keeping a hostage would be a simple thing. But right now, he hated Peter more for dumping the boy in his hands.

Derek knew Erica had gone to see him. He could hear their joined heartbeats and the sound of conversing voices. But he didn’t give them a second thought. Erica could deal with Stiles for all he cared.

That was a lie. But Derek just didn’t know how to  _ deal with this. _

He snapped back to reality at the sound of Boyd growling. Derek barely managed to duck the beta’s swipe— claws out— and retreated back. They’d been sparring all afternoon, after Boyd noticed his change of mood. This was why he was Derek’s second. He hadn’t said a word, just nodded Derek into the training room. And he hadn’t tried to pry once.

Derek focused all his emotions on Boyd’s moving frame. In a second, he had the beta flipped over and pinned, one leg hooked across his chest. Boyd flashed his throat and Derek stood with a grunt, offering a hand. Boyd took it gratefully, sweat dripping down his face and neck.

“We can take a break,” Derek said, seeing the exhaustion in Boyd’s eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was break his favorite (don’t tell the others) beta. Boyd nodded gratefully.

Derek stepped out of the sparring ring and grabbed his water bottle, lifting it to his lips. He couldn’t hear Erica’s heartbeats with Stiles anymore. But Stiles sounded like he was having a heart attack now, shuffling around and spitting out curse words.

Derek resisted the urge to groan.

“What are we going to do with him?” Boyd asked, obviously hearing the same thing. Derek shook his head. 

“I don’t know.” 

_ Use him as an ultimatum? Force him to spill everything about his pack? Tie him up and dump him on the streets a few states over?  _

Derek knew that last one wasn’t an option. Stiles had seen into their base, whether it was just one room or not. He’d looked the kid up; Stiles was smart. Completed an internship with the CIA, studying forensics in college. Derek didn’t trust him to go free, not until they’d gotten what they wanted.

Derek stiffened as Peter slunk into the training room. He glared at his uncle, having deemed this was no longer a good idea and it was all his fault.

“The boy is still upstairs,” Peter said, wrinkling his nose at the smell of sweat in the room. “Unharmed. I’d thought you would have put him to good use by now.”

“Stiles won’t talk,” Derek growled. Peter fixed him with a glinting smirk.

“Because you asked so nicely?”

“He won’t betray his pack.”

“I’d like to volunteer a different method,” Peter said, baring his teeth. “I say we torture him.”

Boyd growled from across the room. Derek bared his own teeth, letting a little bit of red bleed into his eyes. “I’m not a torturer, Peter.”

“I never said you had to do it, nephew.”

“We’re not  _ torturing  _ him.”

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, as if Derek was being the difficult one. “Well, then at least do something to send a message. Scott McCall probably doesn’t even know we have his second right now. There’s no point to a hostage if he’s just lounging around upstairs eating sandwiches.”

Derek raised a brow. Boyd muttered  _ ‘Isaac’  _ low under his breath.

“I’m just saying, nephew,” Peter said, turning back out the door. “He’s not any use to us if he’s not saying a word.”

Derek glared after him. Though the words struck true, as must as he hated to admit it. Stiles wasn’t any use just sitting around. McCall had to know they had his second and he had to know they were serious.

Derek didn’t like pack feuds. They were confusing and messy.

“Go get Stiles,” Derek said, setting down his water bottle. Boyd looked surprised.

“We’re not actually going to—”

“Just go get him.”

Boyd hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, leaving the room. Derek growled and ran a hand through his hair, wishing Laura was still around. She’d know what to do, even if it meant cuffing him over the head and calling him an idiot. She’d know how to get them out of this.

Derek left the training room and went down to the second floor where Isaac, Cora, and Jackson were all slouched around the TV. There was a giant plate of sandwiches on the coffee table in front of them. It was obvious the three betas had been there all morning.

“Has anyone done a perimeter sweep yet?” Derek asked. Jackson blinked lazily at him.

“I thought Boyd was doing it.”

“Boyd’s been training with me all morning,” Derek growled. “Just like you three should’ve been after completing the perimeter sweep.”

“Come on, Derek,” Cora groaned, dropping her head back against the couch cushions. “It’s a Saturday. This is the time for cartoons, all-day pajamas, and late-night pizza, not working out from seven to one.”

Erica came into the room, stiffening when she saw Derek. He didn’t give her a second glance, though. “Fine. Erica, do a perimeter sweep.”

“But I just—”

“Erica.”

“I hate all of you,” she groaned, turning right back out the door. Isaac smirked from the couch and Derek was highly inclined to give him a list of chores, just to wipe that look away. But Boyd came in with a struggling Stiles before he could say a word.

In an instant, all the betas were tensing up. Cora’s fangs dropped and she snarled at the newcomer.

“Uh, Derek?” Isaac asked. “Who’s this?”

“Stiles Stilinski,” Derek said with a sigh, turning toward the boy. “Scott McCall’s second that Peter caught last night. Which you would’ve known if you hadn’t been glued to the TV screen all day.”

“Okay, dad,” Cora said, shifting her fangs back again. “What the hell are we doing with him?”

Derek wished he had a good answer for that. Boyd released Stiles’ collar and the boy stumbled forward, only to freeze when Derek’s betas snarled. His amber eyes snapped over each of them, finally resting on Derek, and his gaze hardened. “What the fuck is this?”

“Oh, feisty,” Cora tilted her head. “He’s only human?”

“Only human,” Stiles said, crossing his arms and looking pissed. “Why the hell does that seem to be such a common insult around here? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class and am very handy with a baseball bat.”

“He’s like a little pissant,” Jackson said, sounding amused. “Except sadder.”

“I’ll show you pissant—” Stiles started forward, fists balling, but Boyd caught him by the collar again. Cora threw back her head and laughed, while Jackson leaped to his feet, fangs bared. Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“He’s leverage,” he said. “Against McCall’s pack.”

“You’re an absolute dumbass if you think he’d risk his pack for me,” Stiles snarled, but his heart skipped over the words. Derek smirked at him.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, Sourpuss, I’m not going to willingly aid and abet in the murder of my pack. So you either let me go or kill me now because—”

“Murder your pack?” Derek blinked. “Is that what you think I’m going to do?”

“If they’re a threat? Will you not?”

Derek stiffened but didn’t answer. Stiles’s eyes flashed. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I kind of like this one,” Isaac said, leaning back and flashing Stiles his golden eyes. “He’s amusing.”

“I’m not here to be amusing, asshole,” Stiles sniped back. He looked over the line of betas again and his face twisted. “And do you really all have to be so good looking? It’s like the Hale pack only accepts supermodels and that’s totally not fair. My god, I hate this place.”

“Yeah,” Cora said with a grin. “I like him.”

“He’s not a pet,” Derek said, crossing the room. Stiles pinwheeled back and tripped over his own feet, falling hard to the floor. Derek paused, looking heavenward as Stiles scrambled away, and prayed for patience. He crouched a few inches away from the boy.

“Don’t touch me, asshole!”

“Take off your sweatshirt.”

Stiles froze, back pressed up against the wall. “What?”

“Take off your sweatshirt and give it to me.”

“Is this some sort of creepy intimidation thing? Because I’m intimidated as hell, dude, and this is my favorite sweatshirt. There’s no way I’m handing it over.”

“Give it to me, or I’ll rip out your throat with my teeth.”

Stiles’ eyes rounded. Jackson barked out a laugh and the boy scowled, slipping out of his red sweatshirt and balling it up. He threw it at Derek’s face, but Derek caught it mid-air. His other hand shot out, claw catching across Stiles’ cheek, and Stiles yelped as it drew blood. Derek wiped his claw off on the sweatshirt. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Peter,” Derek said, having sensed his uncle lingering in the doorway ever since Stiles started shouting. Peter came slinking out with a grin and Stiles shied away even more. Derek handed him the sweatshirt. “Take this back to where you grabbed Stiles from.”

“Wait,” Stiles said. “You’re the one that kidnapped me?”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Peter replied with a smug smirk. “You humans are terribly easy to sneak up on.”

“Sick bastard! I was just trying to have a good night out!”

“And now your here,” Peter said, shrugging. “Funny how things work. You should really know better than to wander around New York at night without a weapon, anyways.”

“Trust me,” Stiles snarled back. “I’m wishing I had a weapon right about now.”

“I like this one,” Peter said, turning back toward Derek. “He’d make a good werewolf. Lots of character, good moral sense, startlingly defiant. He’d have a lot more trouble defending his pack if he belonged to a new one.”

Stiles froze, the air turning sour with the stench of fear. Derek growled lowly. “I’m not biting him.”

“I’m just saying, you should keep that option in mind.”

“Go dump the sweatshirt, uncle.”

Peter rolled his eyes and slunk back out of the room. Derek looked back at Stiles, who was still frozen, before turning away with a sigh. 

“I want shifts on him at all times,” he told his betas on the couch. “Stiles doesn’t go anywhere without an escort and if he escapes, it’s you tracking him down. So make sure he stays put.”

All three betas groaned. But Derek acted like he didn’t hear, leaving the room. 

So maybe he wasn’t good at hostage situations, but Derek had this one worked out. And he was sure someone would come for Stiles eventually. Even if the kid was a pain in the ass. A loud-mouthed, defiant, startingly attractive pain the ass.

_ Oh, fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went ahead and upped Stiles' age a little (from twenty to twenty-two) just cause it made more sense. As always, I adore the comments and support you guys leave. You're all fantastic!


	3. Run, Stiles, Run!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has no control over his mouth, the betas think he's some kind of alien, and Derek reveals a weakness.

Stiles was determined to escape.

He wasn’t sure how, but he was out of his bonds now. At some point, his captors had to slip up. Of course, Stiles had no idea where in New York he was, but it couldn’t be that difficult to get back to the loft, could it? Stiles was anything if not resourceful. He’d figure it out.

But currently, he was stuck with Derek’s betas. Stiles was pretty sure the jackass wanted to kill him, the one with curly-hair saw him as entertaining, and the girl thought he was prey. Not to mention the dark-skinned one who’d dragged him from the bedroom had big enough hands to break Stiles’s neck without trying. He actually missed Erica.

Stiles didn’t know where she was, though. He was only relieved he didn’t have to stick around with Derek’s uncle— Peter— Derek had called him. The man gave Stiles the creeps. Plus, he’d been his kidnapper.

Talk about unhinged.

“You want a sandwich?” The curly-haired guy asked, motioning to the table. “I made them earlier.”

Stiles realized he must be Isaac, the guy Erica mentioned earlier. He shook his head and continued pacing back and forth. It’d only been a day without his ADHD meds, but Stiles was already feeling the side effects. “Erica brought me some earlier.”

“How did she know about you before us?” The jackass asked. The girl at his side rolled her eyes. 

“Because, Jackson, as Derek so kindly stated, we’ve been glued to the TV all morning. Which I honestly think was much better than dealing with Stilinski over there.”

“Hey!” Stiles protested, turning around to cross the room again. “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped!”

“Stop pacing,” Jackson said grumpily. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“It’s probably the lack of oxygen going to your head,” Stiles groused back. “Or maybe that douche expression that seems permanently imprinted on your face.”

Jackson jumped up, fangs bared. But the dark-skinned guy came across the room seconds before he could rip Stiles to shreds, and shot Jackson a dark look, moving between them. “Derek wants him staying in once piece, Jackson.”

“It’s not like McCall would notice if he was missing a toe or two.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “Do you have a foot fetish or something? Because that’s the weirdest part of my body you could choose to threaten harm.”

“Should I offer to rip out your throat instead?”

“Derek’s already got you covered on that.”

Jackson growled, but sat back down. The dark-skinned guy shot Stiles an unimpressed look and started into the kitchen. Stiles sighed and gazed around the room, before eyeing the elevator.

“Do you guys own multiple floors of this place or something?”

“Derek bought the entire building,” the brown-haired girl said. Stiles blinked.

“Seriously? Shit, is he rich or something? Have I been kidnapped by a rich, terrifying werewolf pack full of supermodels?”

Jackson sneered at him. “Bet that’d be the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Actually, the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me was when Lydia Martin kissed me in truth or dare. But that’s a story for another day,” Stiles said, grinning. But he immediately lost the expression when he remembered he shouldn’t be talking about his pack. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice his misstep. Though the girl rolled her eyes.

“I can’t believe my brother’s kept you alive this long.”

“Your broth— wait, Derek is your  _ brother?  _ You’re a Hale? Oh my god, that actually makes so much sense. Can you explain his eyebrows? Have they always been so murder-y?”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “What.”

“Ah, the lack of question marks at the end of your sentences. You are siblings!”

“Can I kill him, Cora?” Isaac asked. “Just a little?”

“Boyd might have to kill  _ you _ if you try.”

The dark-skinned guy— Boyd— raised his eyebrows from the kitchen. But he didn’t deny it. Stiles was starting to wonder if this was Derek’s second, from the way they all treated him. Like they were scared and respectful at the same time. Boyd didn’t seem so bad. Stiles could get used to Boyd.

Except, he reminded himself, he wasn’t planning on sticking around for very long. He was getting out of here as soon as possible.

“So that room I woke up in,” Stiles said, turning to Boyd. “Is that where I sleep?”

“That’s Derek’s bedroom,” Boyd said, a hint of amusement to his tone. “So I guess if he wants to you to, then yes.”

_ Oh god.  _ Stiles choked on his own breath and Boyd offered a rare smile, making him choke even harder. Cora was making gagging noises from the couch, and Stiles quickly returned to pacing. Derek kinda scared him, he wasn’t going to lie. Though, his entire pack kinda scared him. Maybe that as one of the requirements to join. You had to be a supermodel and super scary. That would make sense.

“Wait,” Stiles said, turning back to Cora. “Is Peter your uncle too?”

“That usually how things like that work.”

“Do you have any other family? Is this the entire pack, or are there more?”

Cora’s expression suddenly turned ice cold and she stood, stalking toward him. Stiles backtracked until he rammed against the wall, and she jabbed a finger into his chest. “You ask too many questions, you know that? You’re not here to learn about our pack, you’re here so we learn about  _ yours.  _ So why don’t you start talking, huh, Stilinski? How many members are in your pack?”

Stiles’s heartbeat rocketed and he opened and closed his mouth, unable to find words. Cora’s finger was clawed and it dug into his chest, tearing through his shirt. There was nothing but fury in her eyes.

“Cora!”

Suddenly, she was being dragged away by Isaac, and Derek came between them, red eyes flashing. Isaac whined and flashed his throat, but Cora snarled, her own eyes turning gold. Derek drew himself up, snarling louder, and she finally flinched back. Though there was still murder in her eyes.

“I thought you said he wasn’t a pet, Derek,” the girl spat. Derek’s eyes returned to normal.

“He’s a hostage and a guest. I ordered him not to be hurt.”

“Yeah, well, you sure are coddling him like a puppy. Don’t you think some fear would do him good? Maybe the spaz would finally start talking if you let us scare him just a little bit.” 

Derek growled again, the sound vibrating off the walls. Cora rolled her eyes and turned, stalking from the room. The other betas looked on in silence. 

“Come with me,” Derek said, starting away. It took Stiles a moment to realize Derek was talking to  _ him  _ and he was sorely tempted to run in the other direction for a moment. But in a room full of werewolves, that probably wouldn’t end very well. So, avoiding the gazes of the others, Stiles forced himself to follow.

Derek led him down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Stiles noted that apparently, there were multiple exits. All the better for him.

Derek didn’t say a word as they reached the room Stiles had woken up in. Stiles froze though, as he remembered the duct tape and the chain, as well as the fact that this was  _ Derek’s  _ bedroom. Derek raised an expecting eyebrow. Stiles shook his head.

“I’m not going back in there.”

“I’m not going to chain you up.”

Stiles studied him dubiously. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Again.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Stiles asked, but started into the room. He gazed around it, more curious this time that he knew it belonged to the Alpha werewolf. There wasn’t anything impressive. The desk was empty, though Stiles had noticed that earlier. There was a bookshelf on the other side of the bed, which Stiles moved over to inspect. He recognized most of the titles. For some reason, they didn’t really surprise him.

“The Great Gatsby,” he said, snorting in amusement. “1984. And Fahrenheit 451? I guess you could have worse tastes.”

“Are you judging my book collection?’

“Maybe I am, Sourwolf, what are you doing to do? Rip my throat out?” Stiles grinned and turned, only to get a face-full of shirt. He squawked and stumbled back, pulling it off to get a pair of sweatpants landing as their replacement. He yanked those off too, shooting Derek a venomous look. “Dude! Stop assaulting me with clothes!”

“Put them on,” Derek said, pushing his drawers closed. “Your shirt is torn and you’re starting to stink.”

“Gee, man, thanks for softening that blow.”

Derek shot him an unimpressed glare. “Put them on, or I’ll call Boyd up, and he’ll put them on for you.”

“I think we both know that wouldn’t go very well.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t be on the wrong side of his irritation, now would I?”

Stiles gaped, whiled Derek smirked, and clamped his mouth back closed, muttering a series of swear words under his breath. “Fine, whatever, I’ll wear your stupid clothes. But don’t think I don’t know that this will make it harder for Scott to track me. I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re something alright.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Alpha. “Was that a joke? Because you don’t seem like the joke-cracking type. Oh my god, have I broken you?”

Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Just get dressed, Stiles.”

“I’m not stripping until you leave, dude.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Seriously?” Stiles gestured around the room. More importantly, toward the window and how they were at least four floors up. “I’m not Batman, dude, I wouldn’t make a jump like that. But I’m also not going to change my scrawny ass in front of you.”

Derek looked like he might argue for a moment. But then he growled and stalked out, slamming the door at his back. Stiles hurried over to click the lock, just for safety precautions. And maybe something else.

Stiles didn’t actually think he could walk away from a fall that far, but he wasn’t planning on going out the window. Instead, he scrounged around the room for any possible weapons he could find, and grinned when he came across one of Derek’s razors. It probably wouldn’t do much against a werewolf, but better safe than sorry, right?

Quickly, he changed. Derek’s shirt hung off his chest and he had to fold the sweatpant’s waistband over two times in order to keep them from falling, but it was something. And it was a relief to get out of his old clothes, though he’d never admit that aloud. 

Deciding to test his luck snooping around a bit more, Stiles looked through the rest of Derek’s drawers. The first two contained nothing but clothes, the third was totally empty, but the bottom contained a few sweatshirts and on top of them, a framed picture. One in which Derek was  _ smiling.  _

Stiles paused, pulling it out. He recognized Derek, Cora, and Peter in the picture, but none of the others. It looked like his family. Stiles wondered what happened to them. Maybe that was why Cora had gotten so defensive when he’d brought up family.

Suddenly, the door banged open. 

Stiles startled and stumbled back, the frame falling from his hands and clattering to the floor. Derek stalked in, but froze when he saw the drawer wide open. His eyes turned red and dropped to the picture frame, then snapped up to where Stiles cowered. 

“What are you doing.”

“I— I was just—”

Derek grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall, face half-shifted. “I leave you alone in my room for two minutes and you retaliate by going through my stuff?”

“I’m sorry!” Stiles shouted, suddenly terrified for his life. Of course, his curiosity overcame his sense of survival. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“No,” Derek snarled in his ear, breath hot against his skin. “You weren’t.”

His hand turned to a fist and Stiles flinched back, hands raising on their own accord, protecting his face and throat. But Derek’s blow froze mid-air and when Stiles opened his eyes, the Alpha’s chest was heaving. Derek turned his head away, the hand clutching fistfuls of Stiles’s shirt let go. Derek’s fingers were trembling, Stiles realized.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out, Stiles!”

Stiles scrambled around him, making for the door. He nearly tripped over the picture frame, realizing there was a crack across the front of it, before breaking out into the hallway. It was miraculously empty and Stiles moved faster, making a beeline for the stairs.

This was it— his chance to escape. He didn’t think twice, taking the stairs two at a time. They led to a door at the very bottom and he shoved it open, stumbling out into the broad daylight. Heart in his throat, Stiles started running. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he had to get out. He had to get away.

Stiles heard a howl at his back. Clearly, Derek had realized his mistake.


	4. Dude, Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek loses control, Stiles makes a run for it, and there's a new player in the game.

Derek knew he should’ve stayed in the room with Stiles. He could’ve turned his back toward him when Stiles was changing, dammit, he didn’t have to leave the kid in there on his own. But Derek had a moment of weakness. And the second he’d heard the lock click, he’d known he’d made a mistake. But still, Derek had decided to be patient. To give Stiles some privacy in a house full of enemy wolves.

But then one minute turned into two, into five. Once the clock hit ten, Derek knocked. Like a  _ gentleman.  _ So, of course, he’d panicked when Stiles didn’t answer. Kicking down his own door seemed like the most obvious answer.

Derek didn’t expect to see Stiles kneeling next to his open dresser drawer. He didn’t expect to see him go sprawling either, or see the last photograph of his family Derek owned to go skidding across the floor. Stiles’s face had been one of pure guilt. The little bastard knew exactly what he’d done.

There was a crack across the glass of the picture frame.

Derek hadn’t lost control of his wolf in years. But seeing his most precious possession in the hands of his  _ captive  _ changed that all. Derek saw red and didn’t come back to reality until Stiles was flinching away from his touch. Flinching away because he was scared. Scared of Derek.

Which, of course, he should be. But it wasn’t just fear that soured Stiles’ scent. It was total and utter terror, smelling just like Laura had when she’d held Derek into her chest, watching their house burn down. And Stiles had covered his throat. His  _ throat. _

Derek reeled back. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out, Stiles!”

Stiles ran. Derek covered his face with one hand and slumped to his knees, taking deep breaths. He never should’ve taken this kid. He should’ve made Peter take him right back. Stiles hadn’t even been here two days and he was already getting under Derek’s skin. Like a parasite.

The bedroom door slammed. Derek heard footsteps in the hallway, then down the stairs. But they didn’t stop on floor three or two. Instead, they kept running.

And Derek realized his mistake.

He dropped his head against the wall and groaned. How could he be such an idiot? Of course, he couldn’t have expected Stiles to stay put.

Throwing back his head, Derek howled. He heard the sound of his betas leaping up a few floors below, and second later, Boyd came racing into his room. He stopped when he saw the mess, and saw Derek kneeling on the floor. 

“Derek?”

“Stiles is gone.”

“Did you—?”

“I didn’t let him go,” Derek said, forcing himself to stand. He gazed out the window, but the parking lot below was empty. Stiles was going to run until he couldn’t anymore, if the guy was smart. “Not exactly, at least.”

“I’ll send the others after him.”

“Not all of them,” Derek said, turning around. “Just me, you, and Erica. Tell her to be gentle if she catches him.”

Boyd nodded and vanished from sight Derek leaned down and picked up the picture frame, tracing his fingers over the crack. His wolf howled in pain and he clenched his jaw, stuffing it back into the dresser drawer. Then, rolling back his shoulders, Derek shifted. Stiles’s scent was still strong in the room. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon.

Stiles was also wearing his clothes. He shouldn’t be too hard to track down.

* * *

Stiles was running for his life. Literally.

He didn’t know what Derek would do if he caught him, but he didn’t think it would be good. Stiles didn’t recognize his surroundings and didn’t see anyone else around, but he figured he only had to go so far. The lot the Hale pack lived next to stretched out startlingly far, and they were clearly somewhere on the less populated side of New York. If that was even a thing.

Stiles knew the moment he heard a howl, that he was being chased. That made him run even faster. Because oh god, did terror pound through his veins. It was one thing to be running for his life— another to know there were literal werewolves on his heels.

Ones that were throat-ripping kind.

“One day,” Stiles wheezed to himself as he ran. “I’m going to retire to the countryside. No werewolves, no banshees, no fucking pack wars or hostage situations. Just me, my house, and some well-earned peace and quiet.”

Derek’s sweatpants kept slipping around his waist. Stiles hoisted them up as he ran, no doubt he made quite the picture. Stupid Alpha werewolves and them being twice his size. Derek didn’t even need that many muscles. It had to be part of his serial killer-Greek god vibe. Or maybe the sweatpants were a trap. Maybe Derek knew he was going to try and run and attempted to keep him trapped using a pair of  _ giant  _ pants. 

Stiles ducked down a smaller street and raced to the end. He slowed at little as it forked both ways, studying each direction before going with the left. Left had never let him down. If left got him out of here, Stiles was going to be forever thankful.

But because he had terrible direction skills, a figure cut across his path. A startling familiar, angry-looking, Greek god-like figure, who turned in his direction and straightened as Stiles pinwheeled backward.

“Stiles!”

Stiles turned on his heel and fled. He knew he didn’t have the chance to outrun Derek. The Alpha werewolf was twice his speed and bursting with unfair muscles. Stiles was going to die. Oh god, Stiles was going to die. 

But suddenly, a car cut across his path. Stiles yelped as he nearly ran into it, but then the passenger door swung open and an unfamiliar face leaned out. Still, stranger or not, Stiles had never been so grateful to see another  _ human  _ face before.

“Come on!” The guy shouted, beckoning him forward. “Get in!”

Stiles threw a look over his shoulder. Derek was approaching far too fast and Stiles all but threw himself into the car, scrambling to close the door as the driver hit the gas. They were shooting forward before Derek reached them, the name  _ ‘Stiles’  _ got lost in the wind as Stiles slammed the car door closed.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, slumping back into the seat. The guy driving gave him a worried look and Stiles offered a relieved smile over, his heart still pounding against. “Thank you so much, man. I think you just saved my life.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Hopefully, not anymore. Seriously, though. How did you know I needed help? I thought for sure I was a goner there.”

“I figured most people don’t run from someone looking like that,” the guy said, smirking a little. Stiles barked a laugh and pushed himself into a better sitting position. Usually, he’d have qualms with getting into a car with a stranger, but in this case, he’d take anyone over Derek or one of his betas. He glanced over, noting that his savior wasn’t too bad looking himself, in comparison to Derek. Not that he was comparing anyone to Derek.

“I’m Stiles,” he said, offering a smile. The guy grinned back.

“Ethan.”

“So, Ethan, is there any chance you know where we are?”

Ethan looked curious at that. “You sure you’re not in some kind of trouble?”

“Not more than I’ve been in before,” Stiles said, grinning. In truth, he didn’t know what to tell this guy.  _ ‘I was kidnapped by werewolves’  _ would probably get him kicked right back out of the car. And they weren’t that far from Derek’s hideout yet. “Though, I’d really like to get back to my friends. They’re probably freaking out right now.”

“Sure,” Ethan said. “Just give me an address and I’ll take you there. My brother and I only just moved to New York, but I’ve gotten to know the streets pretty well since then.”

Stiles rattled off the loft location and gazed out the window as they drove. He should probably try to remember the way back to Derek’s base, but he really just wanted to be gone right now. Scott would probably want to make some kind of retaliation. Which meant it’d probably be best if Stiles didn’t remember the way back to Derek’s. If he wanted their packs to stay separate, that is.

Because Stiles hadn’t forgotten Erica’s earlier warnings. That Derek could initiate a full out war if he felt like their pack was a threat. Or if they refused to leave. And Stiles couldn’t see Scott backing down without a fight.

Stiles grinned as he started to recognize their surroundings. “Dude, we’re almost there! Seriously, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll totally pay you back someday if you want to exchange numbers after this. Like literally, anything you want. Within a price range, at least. I’m startlingly broke, despite working a job from seven to five.”

Which he was probably fired from, Stiles realized. Then, he realized something else too.

“Hey, man, I think you missed a turn back there.”

“Naw,” Ethan said, shooting him a sideways grin. “We’re heading in the right direction.”

“But my loft is…” Stiles trailed off. He looked over and caught a flash of red eyes, instantly going for his door. But, just like in all kidnapping movies, it was locked. Stiles swallowed and glanced back over. “Werewolf?”

“Werewolf.”

“But not part of Derek’s pack?”

“Derek’s pack,” Ethan said. “Won’t be around much longer. Neither will yours, Stilinski.”

“You know my full name.”

“Peter Hale wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on Scott McCall’s second. Though we didn’t want you; not until Derek made his move, at least. A pack war,” Ethan shook his head with a sneer, “make sense. Of course, both your packs would take out each other before realizing the real threat.”

“The real threat? You mean your pack, I take it?”

“Something like that.”

Stiles closed his eyes and cursed himself for being an idiot. It wasn’t fair that his only savior would be another werewolf. Seriously, what was up with the supernatural and New York? It used to be Beacon Hills that got all the psychos. And why was Stiles the one they always wanted to kidnap?

He didn’t open his eyes until the car slowed down.

Somehow, Ethan was already waiting for him outside. No, wait, Ethan was still in the driver’s seat. The other one was his brother— twin— Stiles realized. Another Alpha werewolf, by the flashing of his eyes.

Stiles let himself get pulled out. He was tired of being yanked around like a thing rather than a person, though these two wolves clearly didn’t care by the way they dragged him inside. It was some kind of warehouse, Stiles noticed with a pang. 

What was it with werewolves and living in creepy, secluded areas? 

“Are you going to kill me?” He asked. “Because I think I have the right to know if you’re going to kill me. Do I get a last meal? The only thing I’ve eaten today was a sandwich and it really wasn’t that great.”

“Shut up,” Ethan said, shaking his arm. Stiles sighed.

They hauled him up to the second floor and then dropped him like a sack of potatoes. Stiles scrambled to his feet, whirling around toward the exit, only to freeze when he saw a giant man with a bald head stepping in front of his escape. Swallowing, he turned back around. A strange clicking filled the air.

Stiles stepped back as a woman came into view, barefooted and clawed, leading a man with dark shades on. He was blind, Stiles realized. Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better.

“Ah,” the man said, pulling his arm from the woman’s grasp. “Stiles Stilinski. I’ve learned a lot of things about you these past few days, young man.”

“All good things, I hope?”

The man stepped forward and Stiles stepped back, only to ram into bald-guy’s chest. He yelped as the guy grabbed him by the arms, forcing him to his knees, and clawed fingers tipped his chin up. The blind man clicked his tongue. “Things like your tendency to run your mouth. And that somehow, despite being human, you’ve managed to become a True Alpha’s second.”

“Guess I’m just special,” Stiles said, yanking his face away. The man’s claws caught when he did, and sliced straight through delicate skin. “Also, I’m really tired of being kidnapped. So do with that what you will.”

“Quick tongued,” the blind man said, sounding more amused than angry. He brought a bloodied claw up to his nose and sniffed it. “Has anyone ever said you’d make a good werewolf?”

“One too many times, I’m afraid.”

“But that would ruin the reputation of being the boy who runs with wolves, wouldn’t it?”

“Or maybe I just prefer being a human over being a mutt. Ever think of that?”

All of the wolves snarled at that, flashing their eyes. It was then that Stiles realized he was surrounded by Alpha werewolves. Not just the twins. All of them. The blind man laughed. 

“I like your spit fire, Stiles. It’s amusing.”

“I’m not here to be amusing, asshole,” Stiles said. He’d repeated that same sentence to Isaac not a few hours ago. What was it with him and being used as entertainment?

“My name is Deucalion, actually,” the man said. Stiles smirked.

“Like Greek mythology?”

“Someone knows their facts. Yes, dear boy, like Greek mythology.”

Stiles scowled at the form of endearment. Deucalion was as creepy as Peter, if not more. They’d be perfect for each other. “I suppose there is a reason for this impromptu kidnapping? There’s no way you’d know I’d be escaping today.”

“My pack has been keeping a close eye on the Hale and McCall packs. You just happen to be a spot of good luck, Stiles.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to kill me?”

“No, dear boy,” Deucalion smiled. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to have you carry a message.”

“I’m not parroting death threats to Scott for you,” Stiles said, glaring. But Deucalion only laughed, looking thoroughly amused at the assumption. Stiles’s stomach twisted.

“This isn’t for Scott, dear boy, it’s for Derek.” Deucalion stepped back and the overgrown-toenail-woman stepped forward. “Consider it a gift of confidence, offering back his little hostage pet. I only request he leave Scott McCall alive after this little pack war ends.”

Stiles scowled, opening his mouth again. But before he could say a word, a fist connected with his chin. The impact sent him sprawling sideways and a foot sunk into his stomach, making him gasp. Stiles tried to writhe away, tried to scramble back, but the blows kept coming. He could taste blood. Too soon, Stiles saw red. But only for a moment, before red turned to grey. Then a kick connected with his temple.

And grey became black. 


	5. Welcome Back!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's peeved, his betas are psychos, and Stiles doesn't do well on drugs

Derek was fuming.

He’d been close, so close to dragging Stiles right back to the apartment. But then some guy had shown up out of nowhere and Stiles was gone before Derek could catch the other guy’s scent. And Derek had tried, he’d  _ tried,  _ to continue tracking Stiles. But he'd practically vanished.

So, he’d turned back to the apartment defeated. 

Derek didn’t want to talk to his betas. It was childish, yes, but he wanted to be left alone. He couldn’t believe he’s lost their point of leverage before Stiles could even be put to good use. The second was a lot more slippery than Derek would ever admit. He’d been defiant from the very beginning and was gone the moment Derek let down his guard.

Peter was right, Stiles would’ve made a good werewolf. Derek would never force the bite onto someone unwilling, but he could still agree with that fact. Stiles would have made a strong beta.

He’d fumed in his room for a while, but finally decided to go face his pack. Cora, Jackson, and Isaac were pissed he hadn’t brought them in on the search, but Derek didn’t regret that decision. He didn’t trust their tempers sometimes. His pack was his— they were of Derek’s making— and he’d protect them with his life, but they were also still learning control. Or at least, Jackson and Isaac were. Cora was like him, sometimes. Rash and out of control. Derek knew it’d be a while before he fully trusted her temper. He didn’t even trust his own.

“Stiles was here for less than a day,” Peter said. “And you’ve already managed to lose him.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Derek growled. Peter rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying. All my hard work has amounted to nothing.”

“You abducted him off the side of the street,” Cora said from the couch. “It wasn’t that difficult of a job. In fact, we could probably do it again.”

“Something tells me Stiles will be a little more careful from now on,” Isaac said pointedly. “If he’s as smart as he claims, at least. Not to mention the McCall pack is probably going to be out for blood once he gets back.”

“Good, let them,” Jackson said boredly. He flicked out his claws and studied them. “I’ve been itching for a good fight lately.”

“The purpose of Stiles was to avoid a fight, not start one,” Derek growled. Cora rolled her eyes and even Peter looked unimpressed, even though the entire thing had been his idea from the start. “He was supposed to convince the McCall pack to leave our territory, not start a dispute over it.”

“Well, maybe,” Jackson said, “once he goes home crying, they’ll get scared and leave anyway.”

“I can see Stiles doing a lot of things,” Erica said from the kitchen. “But running back to his pack in tears is not one of them. Figuring out a way to get his revenge on us, maybe. Working on a way to protect his pack, probably. He might just keep them out of our way in order to avoid a conflict.”

“But they’ll still be in our territory,” Cora groused. Boyd rolled his eyes.

“New York is big. I’m sure we’d survive.”

“But that isn’t the point,” she shot back. “The Hale pack was respected once. If we allow another pack to taint our territory, we’ll never gain that respect back.”

Derek flinched at her words. It had been years since the fire, but he knew his sister still struggled with accepting what had happened. Just like Peter. Derek didn’t like to think about it; didn’t like to think of what their pack had been before. Or how the Hale’s downfall had been his fault. He knew Peter still held a grudge for the Alpha spark not going to him, and Cora constantly thought Derek could do better. He also knew he’d probably never would, no matter how hard he tried. 

Or maybe that’s just what Derek feared. That he’d never add up to his mother.

“Stiles knows where we are and how many of us are in the pack,” Cora continued. “I think we should hunt him down and slit his throat. Maybe we’ll come across the McCall pack while we’re at it.”

Silence answered her words. Derek didn’t want to look around— didn’t want to see how many of his betas agreed with her idea and how many of them didn’t. Tension among the ranks was the last thing they needed right now. And he didn’t even know where he stood.

Stiles… Stiles had managed to get under his skin in such a short time. Derek didn’t think he could kill the kid if things came down to it. Peter would say he’d never been good at making the tough decisions. So, Derek didn’t say anything, starting at the floorboards beneath his feet like they were the problem. He wished he could melt right through them. But that wasn’t what his pack needed right now.

“Erica,” Derek said instead. “Sweep the perimeter again. Make sure there aren’t any new scents.”

“But I did it this morning,” Erica complained, coming out of the kitchen with a grumpy look on her face. Derek raised a brow, shooting her a  _ ‘are you questioning me’  _ look and she sighed, throwing back her head in frustration. “I seriously hate you all.”

“Except me,” Boyd called from the kitchen. Erica rolled her eyes as she left the room.

“Except you, asshole.”

“You know, there’s alway a chance the guy who picked up Stiles was a psycho murderer,” Isaac said from his spot next to Cora. She rolled her eyes.

“We’d never be so lucky. Next, you’ll be hoping they get so annoyed with Stiles, they’ll drop him right back off on our doorstep.”

“That’s always a possibility,” Jackson said. “That’s what I would’ve done.”

“Oh, don’t bullshit us, Jackson, you wouldn’t have even stopped to help him,” Cora said. “You would’ve gone by and laughed about it later, or maybe even paused long enough to give him hope before driving away.”

“Maybe,” Jackson didn’t even look hurt at that assumption. He only smirked with a shrug. “So what?”

“So what? You’re an asshole, that’s what.”

“Come on. Like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“No, I would’ve been much more creative. I would’ve taken him to the edge of the harbor, duct taped his hands and ankles together, and dropped him in.”

“That’s so dark,” Isaac whispered. Cora shrugged with a sharp grin.

“I’m just being honest.”

Derek resisted the urge to groan. This was his pack, ladies and gentlemen, a bunch of murder-plotting psychos with anger issues. He was sure Laura would have either fallen head-over-heels laughing, or socked him for making such stupid beta choices. Boyd might be the only sane one among them.

But suddenly, something in the air changed. Derek sat straight up as a startling scent reached his nose— one of vanilla and cinnamon. He moved to his feet as Erica came stumbling into the room, a beaten and bloodied figure slumped against her side. Derek’s heart stopped. All of the betas jumped to their feet. And Erica stumbled, dropping Stiles to the floor.

“He was left on our doorstep,” she said, gasping. “I can barely hear a heartbeat—”

Derek stood rooted to the spot, but Boyd moved to help. Surprisingly, Isaac also rushed over, grunting as he linked his shoulder under the kid’s armpit and lifted him up. Stiles was unconscious and his breaths were coming out much too slow. Boyd looked over.

“Derek?”

Derek blinked back to reality. He swallowed and shook his head, before moving a few steps out of the way. “Get him to the couch. Cora, call Deaton.”

“Derek, are you sure you want to…?”

“Just do it.”

Cora clenched her jaw, but complied. Jackson moved back as Isaac and Boyd lowered Stiles’s body onto the couch and Derek moved to his side, taking Stiles’s hand in his own. Tendrils of pain leeched up his arm and he almost yanked back in shock. There was a lot— too much. But Derek held on and gritted his teeth, taking away as much as he could. Isaac swallowed hard.

“Who do you think did that?”

“Smell him,” Peter said, slinking closer. Derek resisted the urge to growl at his uncle; but he’d noticed the other scents that clung to Stiles too. They weren’t like the ones he’d first come in with. They were wolf, but they were different. Sour and smelling like blood and ash.

“It smells like… Alphas,” Isaac said in surprise. Derek clenched his jaw.

“That’s because that’s what they are.”

“But there’s only one Alpha in the McCall pack.” 

Derek took Stiles’s hand again, leeching away more pain. The boy shifted and groaned softly, the sound coming out too hoarse behind cracked lips.

“This wasn’t the McCall pack,” Peter said.

“Then who…?” Isaac trailed off. Derek snarled and his uncle grimaced.

“There's a new pack in New York.”

* * *

Stiles saw his dad leaning over his hospital bed. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but he’d never been more relieved to see a familiar face, almost breaking down into tears at the gentle smile on his dad’s lips. One hand traced through his hair and his dad shook his head, wearing that same expression that he always did when Stiles got into trouble.

“You’re an idiot, Stiles.”

“Hey now,” Stiels grunted, blinking at him blearily. “I’m not denying that, but I never asked to be kidnapped. You should really be criticizing the werewolves. They all want a piece of Stiles, I think I’m kinda the shit. Or werewolf-nip, or something.”

His dad laughed and his eyes crinkled. Stiles didn’t realize how much he’d missed that expression until now. He hadn’t seen it since he’d left home, since he’d left Beacon Hills— Wait. Stiles blinked and sat straight up, and his dad moved to push him back down. But it wasn’t his dad, it couldn’t be. Stiles panicked, trying to break loose, and his dad shouted his name. But it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real—

“Stiles!” Derek shouted angrily, holding him by the shoulders. “Stiles, stop being an idiot and lay back down!”

Stiles went limp in shock, letting himself be pushed into the couch. He stared at Derek, and all of yesterday’s memories came crashing back. The escape, the second abduction, the Alpha pack… Oh, shit. He was back with the Hale pack. He’d gotten away, only to get beaten up and delivered right back to them. Ducaleion hadn’t been lying. Stiles really was a gift of goodwill.

“No,” Stiles groaned, turning his face into the cushions. “Not again.”

His entire body hurt. He felt like he’d been put through a meat grinder and pieced back together on the other side. Stiles remembered the Alpha with the freaky feet and her unforgiving blows. The way her eyes had gleamed, as if she enjoyed it. 

Oh, who was he kidding, she had. She’d enjoyed every moment.

“I’m so done with all of this,” Stiles said, not daring to move again. Every new position felt like a freshly opening wound. “Tell the devil I’m done, he’s had his fun. I want to go back to my bed, hide under the covers, and never come out again.”

Someone chuckled. “Quite the amusing patient you are, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles blinked in confusion, turning his head slightly. A man came into view; dark skinned and smiling. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Alan,” the man said. “But you can call me Deaton.”

“Oh my god, are you another werewolf, Deaton? Because I’ve had enough of werewolves. They can take a long walk off a short pier.”

“I’m not a werewolf,” Deaton said, chuckling. “A friend to them, sometimes, but not a werewolf.”

“I’m a friend to werewolves too,” Stiles snorted. He felt a little dizzy, like something in his head wasn’t right. “But then I was kidnapped by an unfairly attractive Greek god and now my pack doesn't know where I am. Then I was abducted by a pack of Alphas. They weren’t as nice. So I think I’m done with werewolves for now. I’m tired of being their chew toy.”

Beside him Derek stiffened. Stiles had forgotten he was there. But rather than feeling embarrassed, he grinned. 

“Oh goodie, it’s the Greek god. The blind Alpha talked about you, you know. He said ‘consider this a gift of goodwill’ and he ‘only asks you leave Scott McCall alive after this pack war’. Or something like that.”

“A gift of goodwill?” Derek’s face tightened. “Stiles, what does he mean, a gift of goodwill?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Stiles grinned and gestured to himself, though even that movement hurt. He groaned and closed his eyes. “God, I hate werewolves.”

Deaton said something Stiles didn’t catch. Derek growled. “I never asked for this _ ,  _ Deaton.”

“Deucalion doesn’t care what you’ve asked for, Derek. He’s made his intentions— or at least some of them— clear. He wants Scott McCall and he’s willing to do anything to get him. Deucalion’s more of a threat than any teen pack could be.”

“I’ll kill him,” Derek snarled “Stiles nearly died!”

“But who was Mr. Stininski running from in the first place?”

Stiles drifted off to Derek’s silence. He only half remembered who he was running from— Derek, right? But Stiles felt much safer here than he did with the Alphas. God, the Alphas. Now, they were real assholes. Deucalion was an asshole. And the woman with no shoes was an asshole.

Stiles felt a hand on his own. He thought he felt some of his pain leech away, but before he could investigate, the darkness was sweeping through his mind again. His last thought was  _ ‘oh god, I called Derek a Greek god.’  _ And everything was silent.


	6. It's Pixie Dust?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets feisty, Jackson would never approach Stiles's genitalia, and Deaton's a mysterious asshole

Stiles woke up kicking and punching, perfectly ready to fight his way out of whatever situation that awaited. He didn’t expect to hear a grunt of pain, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor. Snapping to reality, Stiles realized he was hanging half off the couch and Derek was on the floor, looking dazed.

“Derek?” Stiles gawked. “Oh my god, am I dreaming? What the hell is going on?”

“Glad to see you’re recovered from the pain meds,” Derek said in a grumble, rubbing the back of his head. He tried to sit up, but Stiles swung again, his fist connecting with Derek’s nose this time. So hard it took the alpha back down. Derek roared in pain. “Dammit, Stiles, what was that for?”

“Were you cuddling me?”

Derek looked up incredulously from the floor. Blood seeped from his nose, though it was already healing, and he ended up just looking ridiculous. Startled and confused, but ridiculous all the same. “No, I wasn’t cuddling you, Stiles! I fell asleep leaning against the couch and then  _ you  _ shoved me over for no reason!”

“I’ve been abducted three times in the past three days! I have plenty of reason!”

“I wasn’t the one who abducted you in the first place,” Derek shot back, letting go of his nose. He wiped the blood off on his shirt and scowled at the stain it left. “I can’t believe you punched me.”

“I could do a lot worse, big guy, just try getting closer again.”

Derek looked at him like he was an idiot, and Stiles did his best to sit up. His aching body screamed in denial, but Stiles ignored the pain. He realized with a start that someone had changed him while he was out. Thankfully, he was out of his bloody clothes. But awkwardly, someone had been all up close and personal with his crotch and that freaked Stiles out a little.

“I don’t consent to getting changed out of bloody clothes ever again,” he said, glaring. Derek rolled his eyes.

“I’ll make sure to let Jackson know.”

“Jackson? You let Jackson change me? Dude, he could have bitten off my genitals!”

“That disgusting, Stiles.”

“I don’t care! Jackson is an asshole, I don’t trust him with changing me!”

“Well,” Derek bit out, looking a little more than irritated. “Next time, don’t climb into the passenger side of a stranger’s car and get beaten up by Alphas.”

Stiles snapped his jaw closed, rearing back. Derek looked almost immediately remorseful and ducked a head, rubbing a hand over his unshaved stubble. 

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Stiles said darkly. “Next time I’ll just stay here, surrounded by your psychotic betas and eating sandwiches. Because that was so lovely.”

“We can hear you!” A voice called from the other room. Stiles recognized it as Erica’s and winced, especially when Jackson’s voice followed suit. 

“And I would not bite off your genitals, Stilinski!”

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles cursed, his entire face burning. Derek gave him a piteous look, which Stiles did not want to see, and pushed himself up. 

“If you’re feeling up to it, though, I’d like to talk about the Alpha Pack.”

Stiles’s eyes snapped up and he resisted the automatic urge to decline. Derek actually looked gentle and cautious and Stiles didn’t know what to do with that, looking back down with a scowl. He prodded at his face, feeling a few bruises, and hissed when his fingers traced over a long cut. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, trying again. “What did they want with you?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said, lowering his hands from his face. “Nothing until your creeper of an uncle decided to ruin my night via kidnapping and they found that highly intriguing. Though they don’t want anything with me, Sourpuss, they want you and they want my best friend. I was just there to serve as a message.”

On the last few words, his voice shook with rage. Over the past few days, Stiles had been told he’d be better off as a werewolf more often than he’d been appreciated for being a human, and it was starting to get under his skin. Stiles was tired of being thrown around like a rag doll and he was tired of being treated lesser for being human. Because he wasn’t fragile, dammit.

Derek stared at him in shock and Stiles realized he’d said most of that out loud. Glowering, he looked away, but it was too late to take back anything now. So the words kept coming.

“Give me a baseball bat and we’ll see exactly how awesome your wolf powers are,” Stiles spat out, shoving himself up. “I’m not scared of your bunny teeth.”

Stiles stalked across the room, heading for the stairs, and Derek nearly started after him. Catching his abortive movement, Stiles glowered even more. He had no doubt Derek could smell the anger and frustration radiating off of him. 

“Don’t freak out, Sourwolf, I’m not going to run again. I’m Deucalion’s gesture of goodwill, remember?”

Derek stepped back and Stiles stalked from the room. He didn’t know where he was going— this building was huge— but he needed to be somewhere else. Stupid Greek god werewolves and their fancy riches. Back at the loft, the girls shared two rooms, the guys shared three, and nobody ever complained. Derek’s pack didn’t even need all this space.

Stiles just really wanted to be mad about something.

He thought about Deucalion’s words and his plan to let Scott and Derek pit their packs against each other. It was smart and that pissed him off, and Stiles didn’t know what the hell he could do about it. Could their two packs actually join together? He knew there was no chance if Derek continued to insist on this ‘hostage-and-leverage’ plan he had going on.

Stiles found himself on the first floor. He could easily just walk out, but he didn’t want a repeat of last time. Plus, he was tired of being hunted by werewolves. Instead, he surveyed the rooms of the lower floor and decided to go up from there. He could at least distract himself by checking out this ridiculously huge place.

Stiles didn’t expect to see Deaton.

The man was moving around a cluttered back room, a large black bag open on the table in the middle and a few threatening tools hanging from the walls. He didn’t seem to notice Stiles until he turned around and made a noise of surprise, coming to a stop. Stiles offered a small smile.

“So you’re the one that saved my life.”

“I wouldn’t say saved,” Deaton said, turning back to his work. “You wouldn’t have died, most likely. Just been in a lot of pain for a lot longer.”

“Oh,” Stiles blinked and moved cautiously into the room. Deaton didn’t try to stop him. “So what are you then, if not a werewolf? You said friend of them, but you must have done something for me to not be… in as much pain. I know this body and I know it takes forever to heal. Sometimes even slower than most humans.”

Stiles tried not to sound too bitter about the last part, but he was pretty sure he failed. Deaton paused and gave him a curious look, before nodding around the room. “I come here sometimes to aid the Hale pack. I’m what you might call… an Emissary. Or at least, I used to be. Now I’m more of the on-call type of aid.”

Stiles stared in confusion.

He’d been the one to get Scott through his changing after he was bit by a rogue Alpha werewolf. He’d done all the research, figured everything out, kept everyone alive. He’d read about a lot of things, but never an Emissary. Deaton seemed to notice his confused expression because he smiled wearily.

“Emissaries are a pack secret, highly protected and immensely cherished,” he said. “Sometimes, only the Alpha knows who the Emissary is. They’re like the Alpha’s second, but much stronger.”

“And you’re the Hale pack Emissary?”

“Like I said,” Deaton said simply. “I used to be.”

Stiles considered this. He gazed around the room and wandered over to the bookshelf, which was stuffed with old dusty books. Some of the languages he didn’t even recognize. Some just looked like childish scribblings and lines. Stiles pulled one out. 

“Merlin’s Bestiary,” he read. “Volume three?”

“That book is worth more than the Queen of England,” Deaton said. Stiles hurriedly put it back. 

“So what you did,” Stiles said, studying the man. “When you helped heal me. That was magic, wasn’t it? Like actual, real, not just werewolves-and-their-stupid-healing, magic.”

Deaton looked amused, slipping another few things into his bag. “I suppose so.”

“Can just anyone learn it?”

The man paused. He regarded Stiles with an unreadable expression and pulled his hands back out, dusting them off on his pants. Stiles startled as Deaton reached out and took his own hands, turning them over to study his palms. Stiles resisted the urge to pull back. The expression on Deaton’s face was none other than  _ weird. _

Slowly, Deaton pulled back. His eyes flickered to Stiles’ and studied his face. “Have you ever exhibited a Spark, Mr. Stilinski?”

“A what?”

Deaton looked thoughtful. He moved to one of the shelves, rummaging through it, and came back with a small jar of some kind of black powder. Taking Stiles’s hand again, he shook some out onto his palm. Stiles stared in confusion. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Make a circle around the table.”

Stiles gawked. He looked at the tiny amount of powder in his hand and then at the distance around the metal table. “There’s no way this is enough.”

“It will be,” Deaton said. “If you believe hard enough.”

“Believe?” Stiles stared at him. Deaton’s expression didn’t change and Stiles felt a strange laugh of disbelief bubbling up in his throat. “Is like pixie dust or something? If I think hard enough, can I fly? Though, not to be biased or anything, but I thought the dust was supposed to be golden, not black.”

Deaton didn’t look impressed by his humor. “If you don’t believe, Mr. Stilinski, then put the mountain ash back. It’s not cheap.”

“Mountain ash?” Stiles repeated. Now that, he knew he’d read about somewhere. Only, he didn’t remember where. Or what it did. Deaton raised a brow and Stiles sighed. “Fine, I go for it. But I feel stupid.”

The man didn’t answer. Stiles looked back at the dust in his hand and started forward, sprinkling a little bit onto the ground as he walked. He tried to concentrate on it, but found himself empty-handed in a matter of seconds. And he wasn’t even halfway around the table.

He looked back up. “It didn’t work.”

“It would appear not,” Deaton said, looking somewhat disappointed. He capped the jar again and turned, placing it back on the shelf. Stiles blinked.

“Wait, is that it?”

“You don’t have a Spark, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said. “So yes, that’s it.”

“But I—”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Deaton said, zipping his bag closed. “I have a few more things to discuss with Derek before leaving. Do clean up the mess, would you?”

Deaton moved out of the room and Stiles stared after him. Then he looked down at the half-ring of black powder, frustration rising in his throat, and kicked at it. The powder filled the air, getting into his lungs and making him cough.

“Dammit,” Stiles muttered, leaning down to scoop the rest of it up. With as much as he could hold in hand, he started toward the trash can. Only to hesitate. Slowly, Stiles looked at the door. Listened to the silence of the first floor. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned back toward the table.

Stiles still felt like an idiot. 

But he felt less like one than before, when Deaton had been watching him like a hawk. Closing his eyes, Stiles focused on the dust in his fist and took a step forward. Like sand in an hourglass, the black powders spilled out of his fingers. Stiles tried to think about it being plentiful, never emptying. He kept his eyes screwed shut and one hand on the table, leading himself all the way around it. But suddenly, just when his heart started to leap in excitement, Stiles felt the dust run out again. He swore and opened his fist, glaring down at the line.

Only to see it circling all the way around the table. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. A grin cracked across his face and he jumped in excitement, pumping a fist into the air. “I did that! I just did something!”

“So it would seem,” Deaton’s voice said at his back. Stiles swung around, still grinning, and pointed to the circle.

“I did that!”

“I saw, Mr. Stilininski.”

“Wait,” Stiles’s smile faded a little. “I did that. What does that mean?”

Deaton looked at the ring thoughtfully. “That you do have a Spark, it would seem. Small or hidden, but there all the same.”

“Like an Emissary?”

“Emissaries come with all kinds of magic,” Deaton said. “Sparks, druids, fae, sometimes mages. Just because an individual has magic doesn’t mean they’re destined to be an Emissary.” He gave Stiles a curious look. “You would pursue that for your pack?”

“Uh,” Stiles said. That’d make sense, right? He’d become something more for his pack. “Yeah, I guess I would. Scott doesn’t have an Emissary.”

Deaton hummed. He stepped over the ring of mountain ash and continued to pack his things, which made Stiles blink. His stomach twisted.

“You’re still leaving?”

“Do I have a reason to stick around, Mr. Stilinski?”

“I, uh—” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought maybe you could teach me. You know, how to do more than make a circle of pixie dust.”

Deaton raised a brow. Stiles instantly felt stupid and the man slung his bag over his shoulder, starting out the door. But he hesitated next to it, glancing back. “I’ll be here at ten o’clock every Tuesday and Thursday morning, Stiles. Read some books.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. Deaton turned away and left the room, the door closing behind him, and silence fell over the room again. Stiles looked back at the circle of ash, a grin stretching from across his face. Going down to one knee, he waved a hand over it and the circle broke. A rush of power flooded through him when it did.

“Read some books,” Stiles said to himself, looking up. Only one book on the shelf had caught and kept his eye, worth more than the Queen of England herself.

Stiles grabbed the ‘Merlin’s Bestiary: Third Edition’ and started upstairs.


	7. Trust or No?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles needs to feel more hate, Derek does too, and Peter is a little shit.

Jackson towered over him, looking unimpressed. “What the hell are you reading, Stilinski?”

“Something far beyond your intelligence level,” Stiles said, never taking his eyes off his book. Three days had passed since his capture by the Alphas, waking up with the Hale pack, and his new apprenticeship under Deaton. Stiles had spent all three days reading, avoiding Derek, and bothering Erica until she gave him access to Netflix on the TV. 

All and all, he’d say this hostage situation wasn’t too terrible.

Stiles missed his friends, though. He’d considered pestering Derek about the Alpha pack on his first day back, but decided against it when he remembered all the words that had been said earlier. Stiles would like to think they’d been forgotten, but Derek seemed the type to angst. So he doubted it.

So instead, Stiles had done as Deaton ordered and read. He’d read, researched, tried to do something else other than spread lines of mountain ash around the apartment. Especially after he’d accidentally trapped Isaac in the walk-in basement pantry. For a bunch of werewolves, it took the other betas nearly three hours to hear him shouting.

Stiles didn’t feel as guilty about that as he probably should’ve.

Though honestly, he’d come to (kinda) tolerate Derek’s betas. Well, other than Cora and Peter that is. Cora still seemed suspicious of him and Peter was just creepy, so Stiles generally tried to avoid them both. He’d also gotten roped into doing chores, which Boyd said was only fair if he was going to earn his keep. Stiles had pointed out he was a hostage. The beta hadn’t seemed very sympathetic to his plight.

Which was why, on day four, Stiles found himself in the kitchen making dinner with Erica. He’d decided out of all the betas, he liked her best. He still thought she wanted to eat him sometimes, but the hunger in her eyes was less wild now than it had been before.

“Stiles, how are you such a good cook?” Erica whined from across the room. “It’s not fair.”

“I cooked a lot for my dad growing up,” Stiles said, shrugging. “He would’ve lived off of fast food and take-out if I didn’t, so cooking dinner each night just kinda became my role in the house. My mom had this cookbook I memorized all the recipes from too.”

He felt Erica looking at him. She tilted her head, eyes uncharacteristically soft. “Your mom isn’t around anymore?”

“No,” Stiles said, focusing a little harder on the block of cheese he was grating. He’d promised to make his famous three-cheese lasagna tonight, if Isaac and Jackson did the dishes for the rest of the week. “She died when I was eight.”

“I’m sorry,” Erica said, and he shrugged. “My parents are still alive,” she continued, though she still sounded a little sad. “But I haven’t seen them since high school. They didn’t even bother coming to my college graduation.”

Stiles grimaced, casting a glance over. Erica met his gaze with a shrug. 

“I didn’t need them, though, in the end. Derek helped me get through college. Even when I considered dropping out.”

“Really?” Stiles said. Erica gave him a look.

“Derek’s not a bad guy, Batman. He cares about his pack and family.”

Stiles pursed his lips, returning to the task of grating cheese. He didn’t have a hard time seeing the difference between the Hale Alpha and Derek, even though he tried to convince himself they were one and the same. It scared him to admit Erica was right. He’d seen the man behind the wolf.

Stiles shredded the cheese too low and sliced the skin straight off the tips of his fingers. Cursing, he stumbled back and stuffed them into his mouth. Though, because it was just his luck, Derek came in then, nodding at Erica and looking over at Stiles.

Derek froze, staring at the digits in his mouth. Blushing, Stiles pulled them out and fumbled for a paper towel, pressing it to his bleeding fingers. “Kitchen accident,” he said bashfully.

“Oh.” Derek blinked and Stiles could’ve sworn he saw a flash of red. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Though there might be bits of finger in the lasagna.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Kidding! I was just kidding, dude. I uh, just skinned myself a little bit. Not enough for accidental cannibalism, though.”

Derek stared at him like Stiles had grown horns and Erica snickered. Stiles flushed even brighter and turned away, unwrapping the second package of cheese. “Nevermind,” he muttered, glaring at it. Next time, he was buying the shredded kind. If only to protect his fingers and dignity.

Something in the back of his head suddenly stuttered. 

_ Next time?  _

Stiles froze and gazed down at the block of cheese, a wave of panic rolling over him.  _ When had he started thinking about next time?  _ Was this Stockholm Syndrome? Was he starting to see this as normal life? No, that would be idiotic. Stiles didn’t see this as normal at all. He just… didn’t see Derek’s pack as terrifying anymore. At least, not all of them. And he definitely didn’t see Derek as the murderous Alpha he’d met on the first day. 

Oh god, this was Stockholm Syndrome, wasn’t it?

Stiles stepped back and yelped as he ran into a chest of pure muscle. Derek stood over him, looking concerned. Stiles cursed.

“Sourwolf, what the hell are you doing? I’m cooking here!”

“Your heartbeat is going a thousand miles an hour,” Derek said, studying his face. “Are you alright?”

“Dude, I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About… things.” Stiles ducked around the Alpha and Erica continued to giggle. He gave her a dirty look as he passed. “Private things. Not belonging to Alpha ears things.”

Derek looked amused. “Not belonging to Alpha ears?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, raising his chin defiantly. “You heard me, Sourpuss. My thoughts? No fit for your ears.”

“Are they fit for mine?” Erica asked. Stiles shot her a glare.

“No. In fact, you know what? I amend my sentence. My thoughts are not fit for all werewolf ears in general.” Stiles smirked. “These are private thoughts, human thoughts. So go stick your werewolf noses somewhere else.”

Isaac entered the room, catching the last few sentences. He looked between the three of them. “What about werewolf noses?”

Stiles groaned and turned around, sprinkling the last of the cheese across the lasagna. The last thing he wanted was to admit he was starting to tolerate these idiots. Or even worse— he shuddered— like them. Stiles had come here determined not to like any of them. He wasn’t supposed to.

But they weren’t really so bad.

_ Shit. _

Stiles stuck the lasagna in the oven and fled, needing to go somewhere to collect his thoughts. It was true; he liked Derek’s betas. He didn’t know when he’d started to like them, but he did. 

It might’ve begun with Isaac falling asleep on his lap during movie nights. Or Boyd making the cinnamon pancakes Stiles was always moaning about. Maybe even with Jackson being less of a douchebag, or Erica being, well, Erica.

But it was final. He liked them.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, burying his face in his hands. “I’m a traitor.”

“A traitor?”

Stiles squawked and leaped up, spinning around. The couch had become his bed during his stay, so the second floor was basically his bedroom, and Stiles had thought he’d been alone. But of course, Derek never actually announced his presence in a room. He just kind of appeared places.

“Dude, you’ve gotta stop doing that! You’re going to give me a heart attack one day.”

“I’m not going to give you a heart attack,” Derek said flatly. 

“You are too!” Stiles said. “And you know what? When I die of a heart attack due to your creeptastic presence, I’m going to come back as a ghost and haunt you for all eternity.”

Derek raised an unimpressed brow. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you’re right, that would probably be punishing myself rather than punishing you. Thank you for pointing that out, let me think of a better threat.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You don’t have to, Sourwolf, your eyebrows speak in volumes. And I’ve come to know them by heart.” Stiles placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “Right now, you’re wishing I would stop calling your Sourwolf and shut up. And— wait for it— the exasperated eyebrows are about to come into play. There they are!”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t understand you.”

“Yes, but that’s what makes me so special,” Stiles said, grinning. To his surprise, that earned him an odd look.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “I guess it does.”

Stiles snapped his jaw shut. He blinked in surprise and Derek’s ears turned red. The Alpha dropped his eyes and muttered something unintelligible, before turning around and trying again.

“Erica said dinner is ready.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “Right, great. I’ll be up in a second.”

Stiles watched Derek go, still a little flabbergasted. Did the great Hale Alpha actually think he was special? More so, did he think he was special, special-special, or  _ special?  _ And which one was a good thing?

Stiles shook his head, forcing himself to follow. He was overthinking things, like always. Sure, Derek looked like a Greek god, kept secret pictures of his family in his dresser, and helped his betas get through college, but he was Alpha  _ Hale.  _ Scott would flip out.

And Stiles was still the hostage. He wasn’t supposed to like it here. He wasn’t.

He kinda did.

* * *

Derek didn’t know why those things came out of his mouth. _I don’t understand you? That’s what makes you special?_ What was he, a teenage girl? He was supposed to be the big bad Alpha. He was barely supposed to tolerate Stiles, much less like him.

But dammit, he’d been more relaxed these past few days than he had in weeks, even with the threat of the Alphas. Derek could feel it and he knew his betas could too. They cracked more jokes around him, actually came to training, and listened to his orders. Derek couldn’t believe it when Cora had hugged him the other day, even though she looked like she’d rather have gutted him after. Derek didn’t know what was happening to his pack, but he was pretty sure Stiles was the cause. 

And that thought terrified him.

It didn’t help that Stiles had made himself at home. He’d built a nest on the second floor, he was bribing Derek’s betas with food, and he’d managed to become a part of the household that even Jackson had accepted. He was only supposed to be here until Derek figured out his next move, but suddenly, it was like having a new pack member.

Dammit, Stiles even smelled like them. And they all smelled like Stiles. Derek would catch scents of cinnamon in Erica’s bedroom and whiffs of vanilla on Isaac’s clothes. Stiles still carried the scents of his old pack but they’d mixed with Derek’s and downright confused him. He couldn’t separate enemy from friend. He wasn’t even sure there was a line anymore. 

It was frustrating.

Derek went to the roof of the apartment after dinner. The night was clear and the air here didn’t smell like Stiles, and that’s what he needed right now. A break from Stiles, the pale, loudmouthed kid who’d gotten underneath his skin. Like a parasite. 

An unfairly attractive parasite.

_ Fuck. _

Derek actually liked him. He wasn’t supposed to like him. He’d never even planned to tolerate him. But he actually liked him. Derek brought his hands over his face and groaned. 

“Trouble in paradise, nephew?”

“Go away, Peter,” Derek growled, not turning around. Ignoring him, his uncle slunk closer.

“Stiles is downstairs playing uno with your betas, you know. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’d wormed his way into this pack. And it’s only been a few days.”

“So?” Derek asked. “What of it?”

“Has it ever occured to you that this might be part of his plan? To gain the trust of the unsuspecting Alpha and lead his own little pack here the moment your guard is let down?”

“Shut up,” Derek said, turning around. Peter’s eyes glowed blue in the dark light. “That’s not what Stiles is doing.”

“Can you be so sure?” Peter asked. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

Derek’s eyes flashed to red and he snarled, the wolf in his chest howling too. Images of fire flashed before his eyes and suddenly, all he could smell was smoke. Rage clouded Derek’s vision. “Stiles is not like her.”

“Her, nephew? You can’t even say the murder’s name,” Peter scowled. “No, Derek, Stiles is not like Kate Argent. But he could be just as bad. He’s following in her footsteps, you know.”

“Shut up,” Derek growled again. Though there was less conviction in his voice this time. Peter sneered.

“What were the things he said his first day here? He’d never betray his pack. He hated this place. I seem to remember the boy saying that if he had the chance, he’d kill me. He’d kill you. He’d slaughter your entire pack and go running back to his own.” 

Derek had his uncle by the neck in a second, driving him backwards. Peter’s eyes blazed blue and he snarled, snapping his fangs in Derek’s face.

“What makes you think you can trust him, nephew? What makes you think he can trust you?”

“Stiles isn’t Kate!” Derek roared, letting his uncle go. There were red marks where his claws had dug in, but they were already fading. Peter sneered at him.

“Maybe not. But he isn’t Paige either.”

Something in Derek snapped, then. Before he could throw his uncle off of the roof, he stalked back inside, taking the stairs two at a time. He stalked past the living area, where Stiles and the betas— even Cora—were engaged in a bloodthirsty game of uno. Derek heard Stiles call his name, but he ignored him. 

Derek ducked into his room, breathing heavy. He should’ve known better than to let Peter’s words get under his skin. But it was so easy and Peter did it so well. Growling, he buried his face in his hands.

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla reached his nose. Stiles knocked quietly on the door.

“Derek?”

Derek ignored him. Slowly, the door creaked open and Stiles peered inside.

“Sourwolf? Is everything alright?”

“Get out, Stiles.”

“Look, I know earlier was kind of awkward, but you can’t start getting all grumpy on me,” Stiles said, stepping into the room and filling it with his scent. “If you spend too much time in this room, it’s going to be like you’re the hostage in this situation.”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, a bit of red bleeding into his eyes. “Get out.”

Stiles ignored him. “I think you’re kinda special too, Sourpuss, if it makes you feel any better. Yeah, in a kind of growly, too much eyebrows, terrifying way. But special all the same.”

Stiles was too close. Kate had liked to get close too, drowning him in her scent. She’d liked to stand over him and smile. A look that had never reached her eyes. Derek snarled and shoved himself up, backing Stiles against the door. The boy’s eyes rounded and he hit it hard, throwing his hands up.

“Woah, Derek, down boy! I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Why,” Derek snarled, feeling fangs pushing against his lips. “Why, Stiles? You’re a hostage here, nothing about this is friendly! Why would you act like it’s anything else?”

“Because, Derek, I— ”

“You don’t trust me,” Derek said, cutting him off. “And I don’t trust you. The moment your pack comes rushing in, we both know what side you’ll take. So why play it friendly now?”

Stiles looked outraged.

“What side I’ll take?” He said, face twisting. He shoved Derek back and stalked forward. “Derek, there are no sides right now! There are no sides except us and the Alphas! Do you really think I’m going to fight you when there’s a threat like them around the corner?”

Stiles’s eyes suddenly blazed. It wasn’t the color of amber like normal, but a brighter, more crimson kind of shade.

“I don’t want to be your enemy, Derek! I never did! And I’m not here to undermine you, dammit!”

Derek drew back like he’d been burned. Something in Stiles’s scent had changed. He smelled more like electricity and spices, the air thrumming with power around him. Stiles turned his head away and both hurt and irritation wafted off of him. He deflated.

“I don’t want to be your enemy, Derek.”

Derek closed his eyes. This— this wasn’t Kate— Stiles wasn’t Kate. He was a lightning storm while she was a wildfire. And while they were both dangerous, Stiles left the smell of fresh rain in his wake, while Kate had left nothing but ashes.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I let something get under my skin.”

“The Alphas?”

Derek shook his head. “Something much closer to home.”

Stiles looked at him like Derek was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. But the scent of vanilla seeped back into his scent and he offered a sad smile, shrugging one shoulder. “We all have our demons.”

“I don’t want to be your enemy either, Stiles.”

Stiles’s expression turned a little more hopeful. “We don’t have to be, you know. Enemies.”

Derek offered a small smile. Stiles’s entire face lit up.

“So, Sourwolf, is it possible for a Greek god and a plain human to be friends?”

“That would be unheard of,” Derek chuckled. Stiles made a sound of protest and punched him in the arm.

“Dude!”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Okay, then,” Stiles said, crossing his arms. “Is it possible for an insanely grouchy Alpha werewolf to be friends with an amazingly handsome human-slash-future Emissary?”

Derek smirked. “An argument could be made against amazingly handsome.”

“Overruled. We’re buddies now, Sourwolf.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Sourpuss.”

“Stiles.”

“Grouchy-brows?”

Derek growled and leaped forward, but there was no intent in his movement. Stiles still squeaked, pinwheeling backwards. He thumped against the wall and Derek could hear the sound of his betas groaning from the other room. Jackson’s voice filled the air, so loud that even Stiles could hear it.

“Banging against the wall is so last year, Stilinksi!”

Stiles choked on his breath and Derek felt his face go red. Loud barks of laughter followed the beta’s call, filling the air. Derek clenched his jaw and turned his face away.

He vowed to make Jackson pay in training tomorrow. Painfully.


	8. Pull Me Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is feeling conflicted, Derek reveals a few more secrets, and Deaton is an assbutt.

“I did it!” Stiles cheered, punching his fist into the air. “I did that, suckers!”

“Yes, Stiles,” Deaton said. “You lit a flame.”

“Oh, stop acting like it’s no big deal, D,” Stiles said, refusing to be cowed. “I just made fire. I’m like Prometheus. I give fire to the mortals and become their hero. Their god! I’m the firebringer!”

Deaton shook his head, turning away. Stiles leaned over his candle and crooned at the flame, petting the air around it like it was a pet. He’d been practicing this all week and had successfully managed to set Deaton’s shoulder, bag, and a few other accidental things on fire, but not the actual candle. Not until now, at least. Stiles felt like he had the right to be proud.

He pinched it out between his fingers and concentrated on the candle wick, narrowing his eyes. Another grin blossomed across his face as it came to life and Stiles cheered again.

“Dude, I’m awesome!”

Deaton dropped a giant book onto the table in front of him. Stiles drew back and Deaton offered a tight smile, nodding toward it. “Read that.”

“Um, this? The entire thing?”

“If you’d like to learn how to do more than starting fires, yes.”

Stiles pinched his lips together and flipped the book open, turning to the first page. It was like the Bestiary but instead of listing supernatural species, it listed different kinds of magic, what they could do, and the things they could achieve. He raised a brow. “That’s a lot of reading.”

“Then I suggest you start soon.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose, flipping it closed again. The title was something in Latin and the front of the book looked like it was seconds from falling apart. “Have you read it?”

“Some parts.”

“But you want me to read the whole thing?”

“Yes,” Deaton said, fixing him with a solemn look. “Because I believe you can benefit from it much more than I did, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just read it,” Deaton said. “The whole thing.”

The man finished packing his bag and zipped it shut. He never stuck around for very long after their sessions, not unless it was to talk to Derek or Peter. Stiles tilted his head curiously. “What do you do when you’re not here?”

“I’m a vet,” Deaton said. Stiles blinked in surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Is that a surprise, Mr. Stilinski?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, forcing back his laughter. “I guess it’s just a little unexpected. I mean, you deal with werewolves as a hobby and then you go take care of animals as a job. Do they not smell the supernatural on you? In high school, Scott had to quit his job at the local animal shelter because all the dogs were afraid of him.”

Deaton looked thoughtful. “Sometimes, I suppose they’re scared. But I’m very good at calming the animals down.”

Stiles thought he could see that. It wasn’t like Deaton was scary; mysterious and a little weird, sure, but not scary. Though he’d never seen the man angry before. Stiles shrugged. “Scott wanted to go into animal medicine before he got bit. He ended up going to college for business. He’s good with people. Sometimes.”

“Scott sounds like a very interesting young man,” Deaton said, and he sounded sincere. Stiles imagined if things had been different, maybe Scott would have been his apprentice instead. Or something like that. “I’ve never met a True Alpha.”

“He wasn’t always one,” Stiles said, shrugging. “But then Allison needed help.”

“So Allison is his mate?”

Stiles raised a brow, staring at the man. But Deaton looked perfectly serious and he snorted a little, shrugging. “I don’t know, man. Are those really a thing?”

“In rare cases,” Deaton said. “Yes.”

“Then maybe so,” Stiles said, eyeing the book again. “I mean, she’s something to him, alright.” 

Allison was as human as him, but she’d always fit in with the pack a little bit more. Stiles used to be jealous about that, though he’d never admit it out loud. He was the token human, the boy that ran with wolves. The one that helped them figure out their problems and watched the fighting from the sidelines. Though now, Stiles supposed, he was a little bit more. He looked up.

“Is an Emissary human?”

“Sometimes,” Deaton said. “In a sense. Not if you’re a born fae or druid. But Sparks are different. There’s a reason you haven’t exhibited magic until now, Stiles. Think of it like a wall waiting to be shattered. Sometimes it is, sometimes it’s not.”

“So I could’ve never known about my Spark.”

“There was always a chance, yes.”

Stiles considered this, running his fingers over the cover of the book. Two weeks had passed since his abduction off the streets and he’d learned more about himself during this time than ever before. Don’t get him wrong, Stiles cherished his baseball bat and he’d never take it for granted, but he felt different than before. Less fragile, more powerful.

“The point of an Emissary,” he said. “What is it?”

“Have you ever heard the myth of Lycaon?”

Stiles raised a brow, glancing up. Lycaon— lycanthropy— had been the first thing he’d reached after Scott started changing. “The first werewolf. He tried to trick Zeus into eating human flesh and in retribution, Zeus cursed him to transform into a wolf and be one for the rest of his life.”

“Lycaon turned to the druids for help,” Deaton said, nodding. “To turn him back to human. But they weren’t powerful enough to lift the curse of a god. So instead, he became something in between.”

“A werewolf,” Stiles said. Deaton smiled thinly.

“Emissaries keep werewolf packs connected to humanity. Like an anchor, but for the entire pack. They’re the peacekeepers and the guardians.”

“Allison was Scott’s anchor,” Stiles remembered. “When he first started turning.”

“That can happen, sometimes. It can be someone— or something— with a strong connection to the wolf, not the human. Emissaries can be that. Or they can simply be the bond that ties the path together and keeps them safe.”

“Kind of like the Alpha bond?”

Deaton smiled in affirmation. Stiles looked back at the book and picked it up, turning toward the door. But he hesitated for a moment, glancing back.

“What’s Derek’s anchor?”

“That’s a question you’d have to ask Alpha Hale, Mr. Stilinski.”

“But you’re not their Emissary? So it’s not you.”

“It’s not me,” Deaton said, but he didn’t sound bothered by that. His eyes took on a distant light. “Just like I told you on your first day. Not anymore.”

Stiles nodded and turned, those words chasing themselves in circles in his mind. He started up the stairs, book still clutched to his chest, and tried not to dwell on them too hard. The second floor was empty when he came over the final stair, so he moved up to the third. It was surprisingly quiet too.

“Uh,” Stiles glanced around. “Hello?”

“Stiles?”

Stiles startled as Derek came out of the kitchen, drying his hands off on a hand towel. He looked painfully domestic in sweatpants and a black henley, barefoot feet padding across the floor. Stiles checked himself and shook his head, pulling his book further into his chest. “Dude, it’s scarily empty around here. Where are the pups?”

“Cora told me to order you to stop calling them that.”

“Order me?” Stiles grinned, starting across the room. “Dude, you couldn’t order me to do anything if you wanted to. We tried that already, remember? And no, I won’t stop calling them pups, because that’s exactly what they are. Psychotic, sometimes mildly feral pups. Except Peter. He’s the old grandpa dog with a bad, slightly perverted attitude.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“He’s not around?”

Derek shrugged. “Peter does his own thing usually. The betas are more relaxed when he’s not around so I’m not complaining.”

“Speaking of the betas. Where are they?”

“They’re out,” Derek said, looking both nervous and a little guilty. “Seeing a movie.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. He shouldn’t be surprised; they were a pack after all. He shouldn’t be hurt either, but that just reminded him that he hadn’t seen his own pack in two weeks. “Yeah, that makes sense. Scott did his best to make us do things together too. The apartment just hasn’t been empty since I’ve arrived.”

“It’s not empty,” Derek defended. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look so injured, Sourwolf, I didn’t mean you don’t count as a person. It’s just… weird without Jackson around to be an asshole.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that.”

“Please don’t. I like my entrails— and genitals— where they are.”

“That’s still disgusting.”

Stiles grinned, dropping the book onto the couch and plopping down beside it. His mind drifted momentarily back to the conversation with Deaton and he shot Derek a sideways glance, who stood awkwardly in the kitchen doorway. “Hey, Sourwolf?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m trying to ask you a question, dude.”

“Stiles,” Derek rolled his eyes. He crossed the room and sat on the chair across from the couch, arching a brow. “What.”

“Why doesn’t your pack have an Emissary?”

Derek straightened, looking startlingly panicked for a moment. His eyes flitted to the doorway, like he might make a run for it, and Stiles threw up his hands. 

“Dude! I’m not trying to be pushy or judgemental here, I’m just curious,” Stiles licked his lips nervously. “Deaton said he used to be the Hale pack Emissary, but not anymore.”

“I forgot he was training you,” Derek said, sounding a little sullen. Stiles didn’t know if that was because Deaton was interacting with the hostage, because Derek didn’t like Deaton (he’d seen the looks), or because Stiles was training to be an Emissary. For another pack.

“Yeah,” Stiles murmured. “I was just curious. You know, about what happened?”

“He quit,” Derek said flatly. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Well, yeah, clearly. But why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Derek said, looking away. Stiles blinked, startled, and saw a little bit of red bleeding into Derek’s eyes. Realizing he was approaching dangerous territory, he shrugged like it was no big deal and sat back, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Okay, dude, that’s cool. I was just curious.”

Derek looked at him in surprise, like he’d expected Stiles to keep pressing. Or maybe he expected him to get upset or irritated or something. Stiles tried not to feel bothered by those assumptions. Yeah, maybe he could be a little pushy sometimes, but he’d come to recognize when Derek was going into his ‘angst space’ and Stiles had to leave him alone.

“I get it,” Stiles continued. “Deaton can be a little assbutt sometimes.”

“Assbutt?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Supernatural.”

Derek looked at him blankly. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and reached forward, grabbing the television remote. Deaton could suck it, reading be damned, Stiles was coming to realize that the Hale Alpha had no taste when it came to pop culture.

“I swear, Sourwolf, you read too much Hemingway. That stuff can’t be good for your head.”

“I don’t only read Hemingway,” Derek groused, shifting on his chair. It didn’t look comfortable. Grunting, Stiles picked up his book and dropped it onto the coffee table, before scooting to the edge of the couch. He patted the seat beside him.

“Get your butt over here, Sourpuss.”

Derek gave him a dubious look. Stiles did roll his eyes, then.

“I don’t grow fangs and claws. I won’t bite.”

“No, but you do run your mouth and fidget too much,” Derek said. But he got up and moved over, sitting down with a good foot or so between them. Stiles shook his head. Even Jackson sat closer.

“That’s rude. You’re rude.”

“And you’re loud.”

“I’m going to leave you to your crappy Hemingway books and lonesome self, Derek, if you don’t sit back and shut up,” Stiles said, switching on  _ Supernatural,  _ season and episode one. Erica was a goddess for letting him set up his own Netflix profile. “Now watch. This is what we consider good entertainment.”

Derek snorted, but didn’t say anything else. Stiles risked a glance over, but the Alpha’s gaze was fixed on the television. Chuckling to himself, he turned back forward. 

Stiles might have done some research by re-watching the show when Scott had first turned, though he’d never admit that out loud. He’d figured if werewolves could exist then supernatural hunters could too, and why couldn’t the Winchesters be there to help him get through Scott’s transition? Though, there’d always be a chance they’d shoot him in the head. And that would be unfortunate?

“Spirits don’t look like that,” Derek muttered as the episode continued to play. Stiles looked over at him. 

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

“Dude, you are such a critical grump. Do you do this all the time?” Stiles blinked. “Oh my god, have you watched Twilight just to compare what werewolves do and don't look like? You totally have, haven’t you? You’d be team Jacob, I know it. I can see it now.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, the tips of his ears turning bright red. “I’ve never watched Twilight.”

“I don’t need to be a werewolf to know you’re lying.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue further. The episode finished in silence and Derek reached for the remote, flipping off the TV. Stiles squawked, glaring over at him, but Derek’s face had taken on a solemn expression. Stiles deflated and leaned back into the couch cushion.

“Derek?”

“Deaton stopped being the Hale pack Emissary when my mother died,” Derek said. “He might have remained if my older sister had been the Alpha, but she died six years later. He didn’t want anything to do with me after.” 

“Oh my god,” Stiles stared. Derek was avoiding his gaze and suddenly, Stiles felt a rush of anger. Derek must have sensed the change in his scent, because he flinched. But Stiles wasn’t angry at him,  _ dammit _ . “Deaton abandoned your pack because you became the Alpha?”

“Yes,” Derek said softly. Stiles leaped to his feet, anger turning to rage. 

“Dude, that’s so fucked up!”

Derek looked at him in surprise. Stiles ran a hand through his hair and turned, pacing to the other side of the room and paused. Sure, he’d come to realize Deaton was a bit of an egotistical jerk sometimes, but to do that? Stiles turned on his heel and seethed.

“He’s an ass.”

“Stiles?”

“I mean, I get that he still around sometimes to help, but he’s still an ass,” Stiles said. “And I hope you know that him not being the Hale pack Emissary isn’t your fault.” Because Stiles knew Derek, and he knew the idiot would blame himself whenever possible. Just like he’d expected, Derek shied away from his gaze.

“It is, actually.”

“Derek, that’s so stupid—”

“I got my family killed,” Derek said. Stiles froze and Derek continued, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my fault they died.”

Stiles stared at him. But Derek wouldn’t meet his gaze, so he crossed the room, sinking back down onto the couch. Derek’s fingers trembled minutely and his face was screwed up in something between a grimace and a glare. “Derek?”

“There was a hunter,” Derek said softly. “I... got to know her. And when I let my guard down, she trapped my family in our house and burned it to the ground.”

Stiles closed his eyes. Things clicked, then. Derek’s anger when Stiles and the pack started to get close. How he’d avoided him right from the beginning and gotten continually twitchy as the days had gone by. And Stiles— Stiles had gone through his things, made ties with his pack, and assumed Derek was an old grump when he’d reacted.

_ Something much closer to home,  _ he remembered Derek saying. 

Stiles swallowed and reached out, covering Derek’s hand with his own. The man started, looking up in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Stiles offered a small smile. “It wasn’t your fault.

“Stiles—”

“I’m not your enemy, Derek,” Stiles said. “And neither are you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Derek’s face softened. 

Stiles licked his lips nervously and Derek’s eyes flicked down, following the motion. Stiles stilled, his heartbeat picking up, and Derek leaned forward a little. Something in Stiles’s stomach twisted. Was this— did he— was something going to happen? Stiles didn’t move and barely breathed. Some part of him  _ ached  _ for it.

But inches away, Derek froze. Red flashed through his eyes and Stiles startled as Derek snarled, pulling back and leaping to his feet. He faced the staircase and Stiles followed his gaze, right as a figure stepped over the threshold into the room. Stiles’s heart stopped.

_ Deucalion. _


	9. Feel it Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deucalion has his own agenda, Derek's got fight, and Stiles is a BAMF.

Derek put himself between Deucalion and Stiles. 

He growled low in his throat and half-shifted, fangs poking at his lips. Deucalion chuckled and stepped into the room, his cane tapping along the floor as he did. He was closely followed by a woman with clawed feet, a smirk stretching across her lips as she took Derek in.

“Derek Hale,” Deucalion said, coming to a pause a few feet away. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The honor’s all yours,” Derek growled. Deucalion chuckled.

“I almost feel unwelcome. I’m inclined to ask why, as clearly you got my gift of goodwill. I apologize if I just interrupted something… intimate. Though I’m surprised to see your pet is so willing.”

“You almost killed him,” Derek snarled. “I never asked for that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Deucalion said, waving a hand through the air. “Once my pack sees a runaway hostage, they know the procedure. Especially during strained times like this. Which is why I’m here, actually.”

“I haven’t seen or touched Scott McCall and his pack.”

“I know,” Deucalion said. “That’s the problem.”

Derek drew back, growling in confusion. Stiles had gotten to his feet, but he watched the exchange in silence. Derek could smell his scent; fear curling with anger as the boy held himself back. Derek was thankful for that. He wasn’t sure he could move fast enough to keep both Alphas from Stiles. Deucalion’s blindness didn’t matter.

“See,” Deucalion said. “I assumed this pack war would move things a little faster. But here we are, both packs still standing, and no one else is the wiser. Was I wrong to assume you’d defend your territory?”

“You’re wrong to assume we wouldn’t turn our sights to the bigger threat.”

“Bigger threat?” Deucalion chuckled. “Oh, Derek, I’m no threat to you. Not if things continue to go according to plan, that is. As for Scott McCall, well. The only threat he currently sees is the enemy pack that kidnapped his friend.”

Derek stiffened. Deucalion smiled cruelly.

“They’re not as young and foolish as you might believe. It’s unfortunate that your pack decided to not only to go out today, but to leave their Alpha behind. Because now, both you and your betas are unprotected.”

“What did you do?” Derek asked. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Deucalion said. “It’s not my pack that Scott McCall is hunting.”

Behind Derek, Stiles made a soft noise in the back of his throat. His scent spiked again; still smelling of fear and anger, but now there was something else too. The overwhelming emotion that Derek could only categorize as protectiveness, though he wasn’t sure if it was for Scott or Derek’s betas. Some part of Derek thought he knew. But he didn’t know what to do with that realization.

Deucalion obviously sensed it too. 

“Stiles,” the blind Alpha said, his tone turning thoughtful. “There’s something new about you.”

Derek heard Stiles swallow. Deucalion smirked.

“I didn’t sense your spark before. Is that a new development?” Deucalion lifted his nose and breathed in, deep and heavy. “I haven’t smelled such power in a long time.”

“Fuck off,” Stiles said, his voice on the edge of a growl. Derek couldn’t help but feel proud; the clawed-foot woman snarled.

“Kali,” Deucalion said, addressing the woman. “Play nice.”

Kali went quiet but she was still glaring. Derek couldn’t not notice the way Stiles stiffened when she moved. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles clench his fingers into a fist, watching Kali like she was something out of a nightmare. The boy’s fingers reached up and brushed over the faded scar across his cheek.

Derek’s blood turned hot. He didn’t need to ask to know who had administered the beating, snarling at Kali like that would do anything. Deucalion chuckled.

“Protective of your pet, Derek?”

“He’s not a pet.”

“Clearly,” Deucalion said. “In fact, it would seem he’s on his way to becoming an Emissary. But for you, I wonder? Or young Alpha McCall?”

Derek clenched his jaw. “None of your business.”

“So it’s for Alpha McCall, then. My pack hasn’t had an Emissary in a long time, you know. They’re always so... breakable. None have ever been strong enough.”

Deucalion’s eyes never left Stiles as he spoke. Derek felt his hackles raise.

“But back to the reason I came here,” Deucalion said, looking back at Derek. “It’s not just about Scott McCall. I’ve always wanted to meet the current Alpha Hale and I can honestly say I’m not disappointed.” He tilted his head. “Let’s chat.”

Kali moved before Derek could react.

Stiles scrambled away as she moved across the room, claws swiping through the air, and Derek jerked back. He snarled and blocked her blows, catching her across the cheek. Kali roared, spinning on her heel, and her clawed foot swung up. Derek lifted an arm, ducking away, but it caught his shoulder, slicing through skin. This time, it was his turn to roar, and he heard Stiles shout his name. 

The boy started forward, eyes the color of crimson amber, but before he made it three feet, the elevator opened and a muscular, bald-headed Alpha came out. He caught Stiles by the throat and rammed him against the wall and Stiles choked, eyelids fluttering.

Derek abandoned Kali, starting forward. But that was a mistake. She stomped down on the coffee table, snapping its metal legs, and grabbed one of them, launching herself at Derek. The long metal piece caught him across the face, sending him sprawling to the floor. She leaped forward and drove it straight down through his chest.

Derek roared, seeing red. He heard Stiles scream his name.

For a moment, all Derek could feel was agony. Kali pushed the piece down until it met the floor, effectively pinning him, and Stiles continued to shout. Derek dropped his head and took deep, painful breaths, listening to the sound of his own blood drip to the floor.

Deucalion sighed and started forward, cane clicking on the floor as he approached. He stepped in front of Derek and crouched down. 

“Well, that sounded exhausting. Are we comfortable now?”

Kali twisted the metal piece. Derek snarled weakly.

“Good.”

“You bastards!” Stiles shouted, struggling against the grip that pinned him to the wall. Deucalion waved a hand through the air.

“Ennis, quiet him down.”

Ennis drew Stiles back and then rammed him back against the wall. Stiles made a choked noise and stopped struggling, though his panicked amber eyes still met Derek’s.

“Thank you,” Deucalion said. “Now, I did ask Kali to be gentle, but…”

“This is me being gentle,” Kali snarled. Derek tore his eyes away from Stiles and looked up at Deucalion, baring his teeth. Blood dripped from his lips, adding to the growing puddle on the floor. Deucalion sighed.

“See, this is the thing about an Alpha pack, Derek. Everyone is always challenging the leadership. It takes a lot to keep my pack in line.”

“Let Stiles go,” Derek growled. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“Correction,” Deucalion said. “He didn’t have anything to do with this. Until your uncle picked him up off the streets, he survived a beating from Kali herself, and now contains a Spark of which I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“What do you want?” Derek gasped. He could feel the strength seeping from his body as it tried over and over again to heal itself, only to come short when Kali twisted the metal piece. He knew even werewolf healing wouldn’t keep him alive for long. But maybe that was the point. “Did you come here to kill me? Is that it?”

“After everything that’s happened, you really think I’m that boring?” Deucalion asked, his lips twisting. “Don’t throw me in with sociopaths like your uncle, Derek. No, I am a man of vision. I came here with intentions far beyond simple murder.”

“For some reason I don’t find that very comforting.”

“You shouldn't,” Deucalion said. “I’m not here to be comforting. But we’re not unreasonable, Derek, there is a way for you to survive this. I had hoped the pack war would do the job, but now I can see that’s simply not it.”

“Duke,” Kali said, tilting her head as Derek’s blood continued to drip to the floor. “I’d get on with it if you want him to see the next morning.”

Deucalion sighed. He pushed himself up and Derek tracked his movements as he approached Stiles, pausing when Derek snarled. Turning on a heel, he smiled. “I killed my pack, Derek. When I went blind, they assumed I wasn’t fit for my role anymore. So I ripped out their throats, one by one.”

Stiles made a disgusted noise. Deucalion turned back toward him.

“Does that bother you, dear boy? I killed my own pack and discovered that as an Alpha, their power was added to mine. I became faster, stronger,” he grinned. “When I killed my Emissary, I felt nothing. A shame, really. But she hadn’t been all that powerful.”

“So you’re a fanatic,” Stiles snarled. Deucalion’s face twisted.

“I am the Demon Wolf, Stiles.”

Stiles flinched away. Ennis bared his teeth in a smirk and tightened his grip and Derek growled, dragging their attention to him again. Deucalion moved back over. 

“Kali, Ennis, and the twins,” he said, “they all did the same. They slaughtered their packs and became stronger because of it.”

“So that’s what you want from me?” Derek gasped out. “You want me to kill my pack?”

“I want you to kill one,” Deucalion said simply. “Once you feel the rush of power and strength that earns you, you’ll kill the rest yourself.”

“I won’t,” Derek said in a growl. Deucalion hummed.

Kali suddenly gave the metal piece another brutal, sharp twist and Derek howled, his chin dropping to his chest. His entire body screamed in pain and Stiles shouted his name, the thrum of power filling the air. Derek heard Ennis growl, felt suddenly Kali draw back, yanking the piece from his chest, but he didn’t see anything but red. He wasn’t sure if that was from the pain or the rush of magic that suddenly filled the air. 

Someone roared. Derek collapsed.

* * *

Stiles felt it like an itching sensation under his skin.

Each word Deucalion said made the itch grow stronger and the sight of his smirk had Stiles’s blood roaring in his ears. He didn’t know what happened between the moment of Kali twisting the stake in Derek’s chest and Derek’s responding howl of pain, but something in him  _ shattered. _

His spark was just like a wall, he remembered Deaton saying. A wall that needed to break.

Stiles roared, the sound nowhere near human. He caught Ennis by the neck and ripped himself free, throwing the werewolf back. Kali’s eyes flashed and she ripped the piece from Derek’s chest, leaping at him with it, but Stiles dodged. From the corner of his eye, he saw Derek drop, and everything turned red. It was like his senses had changed. Everything turned sharper and stronger; his sight, his smell, his movements. He caught the metal piece midair, slicked with blood, and yanked it from Kali’s grasp.

She snarled and swiped out, claws missing his throat by inches. Stiles swung the metal piece through the air and it cracked against her skull. The female Alpha went sprawling to the floor. 

Some feral part of Stiles wanted to drive the metal piece through her chest, just like she’d done to Derek. But he turned on Deucalion instead. The blind wolf didn’t move back, only grinned at him as if Stiles had done exactly what he’d hoped. Power thrummed underneath Stiles’s skin. He moved in front of Derek and balled his fists, throwing his chin up.

“You’re not welcome here.”

“Ah, Stiles,” Deucalion said. “It seems I underestimated you.”

“Get out.”

“The boy that runs with wolves is no pet after all,” Deucalion continued. Stiles was aware of both Ennis and Kali picking themselves up, claws out as they started toward him, but Deucalion raised a hand and they stopped. “And it seems he’s not Scott McCall’s Emissary after all.”

Stiles blinked. He forced himself to remain standing still, but confusion crashed over him at that. Derek took slowly, raspy breaths at his back and Stiles felt a rush of both pain and protectiveness ripple through him in a wave. Deucalion chuckled.

“Do you feel that, dear boy? That’s your Alpha in pain. That’s your pack bond tightening _.” _

“Get out,” Stiles snarled again. He didn’t know what else to say, anger and confusion pounding through him like the power underneath his skin. Deucalion nodded over his shoulder and both Ennis and Kali stepped back, toward the stairs. Deucalion set the tip of his cane on the ground, starting around him.

“One kill,” Deucalion said, not looking back at him. “Tell your Alpha that. We’ll keep in touch.”

Then he was gone, the only sound being the  _ tap-tapping _ of his cane as he disappeared down the stairs. Stiles shuddered and spun around toward Derek, dropping to his knees. The Alpha’s breaths stuttered and while his skin was slowly stitching itself back together, he was still bleeding. Derek made a quiet noise of pain as Stiles touched his chest and his eyes fluttered open.

“Stiles?”

“Hush,” Stiles commanded. “Dammit, Sourwolf, don’t you dare move.”

Derek chuckled and blood splattered his lips, staining his teeth. Stiles took Derek’s hand, squeezing it tight, and brought it up to his cheek. He wasn’t sure what he was doing but he could feel some of his strength ebbing. Eyes flying open, he saw lines of gold creep up his arm. Derek made a soft noise and relaxed slightly.

Stiles dropped his chin to his chest, exhausting crashing over him. The apartment was silent— too silent. Stiles kind of wanted to scream and kind of wanted to cry as the reality of the encounter crashed over him. It was shock, he knew. But it didn’t soften the blow any less.

Suddenly, a pair of feet raced into the room again. Stiles’s head snapped up and he knew he wasn’t ready for another fight— but it wasn’t the Alphas. It was Jackson, Isaac, Cora, all three stumbling to a stop as they took in the scene. Cora’s face turned horrified and she raced forward, dropping down at Derek’s side. Gentle hands trembled an inch over his gaping wound. She looked up.

“What happened?”

“The Alphas,” Stiles said hoarsely. “Where are Boyd and Erica?”

Cora flinched, looking back at the others. Stiles watched both Jackson and Isaac avoid his gaze, before Cora looked back. Her response was slow, cautious. And it made all of Stiles's worst fears come true.

“The McCall pack took them.”


	10. Peaceful? Behavior?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is determined to bring about peace, Derek's betas aren't the assholes they used to be, and Scott might need some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I started this fic planning on 5k words or so and only a few chapters. But here we are well past 20k and I'm seriously having fun here. I haven't started writing for the Teen Wolf fandom until a week or so ago, so all the support you guys have provided is amazing! You're all fantastic <3

It was time to go back to Scott. They all knew that, even if Stiles was the only person willing to say it out loud. 

Stiles knew they’d let this thing go on too long. He should’ve returned to his pack the moment Derek started trusting him, but Stiles had let the days stretch out. He’d let himself be convinced that it wasn’t time to request something like that, even though he knew Derek wouldn’t have kept him hostage if he’d have requested to go home. Stiles didn’t want to dwell on the reason why he’d stayed. He was scared to. Because Deucalion’s words scared him;  _ your Alpha  _ and  _ pack bond. _

“I should go alone,” he said to Isaac, watching Cora care for Derek across the room. They’d moved him to the couch and hadn’t tried to wake him since then. Not with the Alpha’s body still healing.

“I don’t think it’s my right to tell you no,” Isaac said. “But you’ll be safe?”

“Of course,” Stiles said. “They’re my pack.”

Isaac looked downcast, a soft whine sounding in the back of his throat. Stiles looked at him in surprise and the beta looked away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Isaac?”

“I thought we were your pack too,” Isaac said softly. Stiles’s heart stuttered and he knew the beta must have heard it. Stiles looked over at Derek again and something strange washed over him. He didn’t want to leave the Alpha’s side. He didn’t want to leave Derek’s betas unprotected.

But not all the betas were here. Stiles didn’t think his pack would ever hurt Boyd or Erica, but he had to stop things before they escalated. They all knew this.

“Keep an eye on Derek,” Stiles said, despite the other things going through his mind. “I don't know where Peter is, but Derek needs the comfort of his pack. And his family.”

Isaac nodded quietly. Stiles trailed his fingers over the back of Isaac’s neck as he moved by, trying not to think about how it was obvious scenting. 

“Tell him where I’ve gone if he wakes up,” he said. “Tell him I’ll be back.”

Isaac closed his eyes, leaning slightly into his touch, and whining when Stiles drew away. He nodded with a small look in his eyes and Stiles started toward the staircase. He nodded to Cora as he passed by. But Jackson cut him off at the threshold.

“Where do you think you’re going, Stilinski?”

“To get the betas back,” Stiles said, trying to step around him. Jackson moved in his way once more.

“Then someone here is coming with you.”

“Do you not trust me?” Stiles asked, taking a step back. Jackson growled lowly and didn’t answer, but the answer was obvious in his eyes. He looked down at his feet.

“Of course, I do.”

“Then let me do this.”

“You don’t understand,” Jackson spat, looking angry again. “They’re pack, Stilinski, and now they’re at the hands of an enemy pack. You expect us to stand by and wait for you to go collect them?”

“I expect you to trust me to do what’s right,” Stiles said, raising his chin. “The way your feeling right now is how my pack felt when Peter picked me up off the streets. But I wasn’t gone for a few hours, I’ve been gone for days. Weeks, Jackson, and they’ve suffered for it. They’re not going to turn Erica or Boyd over to anyone except a person they trust.”

“And that’s still you?”

“I’m Scott McCall’s second,” Stiles said confidently. “And I’m going to get the betas back.”

Jackson looked at him for another long moment, before stepping aside. Stiles started past again but a hand caught him by the shoulder. Gently, which Stiles didn’t know was possible for the beta. Jackson wouldn’t meet his gaze, but handed over a pair of keys. “Not a scratch, Stilinski.”

Stiles nodded. Jackson bared his teeth and flashed his eyes.

“Or I’ll bite off your genitals.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, pulling away. “Derek is so right. That’s disgusting.”

Jackson smirked. Stiles started down the stairs.

Of course, Jackson owned a porsche. Stiles really shouldn’t have expected anything else from the beta and he couldn’t help grinning as he climbed inside, running his hands over the steering wheel. He’d never had another car other than Roscoe, and his precious blue jeep broke down more often than it worked. Jackson’s porsche started up like a dream.

Stiles punched in their loft address and memorized the streets as he left Derek’s apartment behind. His heart started to thud as he got closer, remembering the last time he’d almost gotten back to his pack. That hadn’t ended well.

Stiles hoped this time would be more successful.

Getting there, he parked and sat in the car for a moment longer, pulling back in his nerves. The last thing Stiles should be was nervous but he couldn’t help it. So much had happened over the last two weeks. He’d gone from hating his captors to… no, Stiles didn’t want to think about that. He got out of the car and moved toward the loft.

Stiles punched in the code to the alarm, because the last thing he wanted was it going off and freaking everybody out. Then he started up the stairs to the top floor.

Stiles heard the sound of shouting before he reached the loft door. Heart leaping into his throat he pulled it open and stepped forward and everybody in the room spun around.

All the werewolves were half-shifted. All except one.

Scott stared at him in shock.

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles said, offering a small smile. “How’s it going?”

Scott blinked. 

Then he moved forward so fast, Stiles didn’t have a chance to react before he was being engulfed in a hug, werewolf strength nearly cracking his ribs. Stiles gasped and laughed, clapping Scott on the back. He could see the others over his shoulder; all looking shocked. The moment Scott let him go, Lydia was in his place, stark white face burying into his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Stiles. We thought you were dead.”

Stiles felt a wave of guilt instantly. He closed his eyes and didn’t answer, not trusting himself to. He should’ve talked to Derek earlier; convinced the Alpha to let him approach his friends days ago. But Stiles hadn’t and his friends had assumed the worst because of that. He felt terrible.

Lydia drew back after a long moment. She smiled through tearful eyes, studying his face. Trembling fingers reached up and traced the fading scar across his cheek. Green eyes hardened.

“What did they do to you?”

Scott growled behind her. Stiles swallowed hard. “They didn’t do anything.”

“Stiles?” Allison stepped forward, looking confused. 

Stiles finally looked around the apartment, seeing a restrained Erica and Boyd in the corner, both shock still and watching silently. Stiles resisted the urge to move over to them and fixed his pack with a look. “The Hale pack didn’t do anything. It’s not them you should’ve gone after.”

“Stiles,” Danny said, stepping forward. “They kidnapped you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, gesturing out lamely. “But that was politics. Plus, I forgot my bat. I should’ve known never to walk around New York without a bat.”

His argument was terrible. Stiles knew that the moment the words left his mouth and he cringed, catching the sympathetic looks of the others. Even Liam looked confused and a little shocked, and Stiles knew he should’ve rehearsed something before coming here. He swallowed hard.

“Can we talk, Scott? Just… us?”

Stiles knew Scott would know what he meant by that.  _ Us,  _ was the original pack of Beacon Hills, before they’d gained a literal child, a coyote, a kitsune… the list went too long.  _ Us,  _ was him, Lydia, Allison, and Danny. Scott nodded. “Guys.”

One by one, the rest of the pack shifted out. Comforting touches traced along Stiles’s neck and arms as they passed and he closed his eyes slightly, remembering those feelings. Malia squeezed his arm a little too hard. Stiles smiled at her and she looked worried, which was never a good sign.

Though with the Alpha pack, he supposed they all should be worried.

Once the loft door had slid shut and they were left (sorta) alone, Stiles licked his lips and swallowed hard. He forced himself not to look at Derek’s betas. “There’s a third pack in the city.”

Lydia straightened. “What?”

“It’s an Alpha pack,” Stiles said. “And they’ve been watching both of our packs for weeks now.”

“Our packs?” Scott stared at him. 

“Both you guys and the Hale pack.”

Stiles let his eyes flick to Erica and Boyd, trying to look reassuring. But he was pretty sure he failed. Scott followed his eyes and his gaze hardened. “Stiles what are they holding over you?”

“What?” Stiles looked back at him. “Nothing!”

“Stiles,” Allison said softly, stepping forward. Her fingers caught his and squeezed gently. “It’s alright. You’re safe now.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, groaning. He covered his face in his hands and shook his head, dropping them back down. “Everything’s really not alright, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Deucalion, the creeper blind Alpha of the Alpha’s, wants both packs killed. Decimated. He says if an Alpha kills their pack, they’ll gain more power, and he wants you and Derek to do just that.”

“Derek?” Danny echoed. Stiles swallowed.

“Derek Hale.”

“Alpha Hale,” Scott growled out. Stiles resisted the urge to facepalm.

“Yes, Derek Hale, though it wasn’t necessarily him that kidnapped me. That was his creeper uncle’s doing.” Stiles shrugged. “I was there for a few days, then I sorta escaped, only to get abducted by the Alphas instead, kinda beaten up, and dropped back off at Derek’s doorstep. It’s been a real adventure.”

The four stared at him. Stiles offered his best  _ ‘what can you do’  _ grin but he was pretty sure it fell short. Scott glared over at the restrained betas. “Did you come for them?”

“Um,” Stiles said, glancing over. He bit his lip. “Yes. But I also came so we could figure things out.”

“You smell different,” Danny said. “Like them but… different too.”

“That’s a bit of a longer story,” Stiles said. Scott looked back at him and his expression was that of a hurt puppy dog. Stiles felt guilty again. “I’m sorry if I scared you guys.”

“I couldn’t find your scent anywhere,” Scott said. He sounded broken. “I tried, Stiles, I swear. We all did. For days.”

“Oh, Scotty,” Stiles said, “I know. I’ll admit, the whole thing wasn’t ideal at first, but it got better. I know Derek started out a little strong—” He remembered his poor red sweatshirt with a sigh— “But right now, he isn’t the enemy. Deucalion thinks that if you kill a beta, you’ll want to kill the rest. He’s determined to make both you and Derek additions to his pack.”

“He sounds like a psycho,” Danny said. Stiles laughed humorlessly.

“No, Peter is the psycho. And sometimes Cora. Jackson too, but less so as of late. Deucalion is a fanatic. And his other Alphas are just as dangerous.”

Stiles’s friends look confused as he dropped names. He sighed.

“Look,” Stiles said. “They attacked us only a few hours ago. Derek’s other betas are back at his apartment, but he needs his entire pack. More so, he needs our entire pack. And we need his.”

Scott clenched his jaw, eyes flashing to red. Stiles smiled gently, taking his friend’s shoulder.

“Scotty, I know what I’m asking. And I know how ridiculous it sounds. But what Deucalion wants right now is for us to be at each other’s throats. That’ll only make things easier for him in the end. The things they did to Derek—” Stiles shuddered. “I can stand by and watch them do that to you. And trust me, they’ll come by. And it doesn’t matter how many of us are there when they do.”

Other than Scott, his three friends looked between each other. Allison moved to Scott’s side, her presence as gentle as always, and whispered something Stiles didn’t catch. The red faded from Scott’s eyes. He looked at Stiles carefully. “I trust you, Stiles. I always will.”

“I know, buddy. And I’m back now.”

“But I don’t trust Derek.”

Stiles swallowed, but forced a nod. He hadn’t trusted Derek at first either. Now… now Stiles could admit to himself he did. He wasn’t sure when he started trusting the Alpha, but he had. Somewhere along the lines of Derek taking care of him after the Alphas and giving him free reign of the apartment as Stiles figured everything else out. Stiles looked over at Derek’s betas, then back at Scott.

“Can I?”

Scott nodded sullenly. Stiles took the key from Danny and rushed over to them, falling to his knees. The two betas watched him in silence and neither moved for a moment as Stiles unlocked their restraints. Then, quietly, Erica spoke.

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

“Deucalion came,” Stiles said. “Derek was hurt, but he’s healing.”

“No,” Boyd said. “Something  _ happened.  _ Something to the pack bond. We both felt it.”

Stiles clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. Once more, Deucalion’s words circled through his head, a sickness in Stiles’s stomach forming that wouldn’t go away. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He knew they could hear his lie.

Stiles stood and they did too, eyeing the rest of his pack cautiously. Stiles looked between them, chewing on his lower lip. He glanced at Scott. “Come back with me.”

Scott tensed. Stiles held his gaze.

“You, me, and Lydia. I didn’t drive Roscoe here and Derek needs his betas back. We can’t do this alone, Scott. Not against the Alphas.” Stiles wasn’t sure why he said Lydia’s name too, but she’d always been a pillar among them. She always stayed calm during pack arguments and discussions. Stiles would have volunteered Allison but with her past as a hunter, he thought it better to wait. Baby steps.

“I’ll go,” Lydia said. After a moment, Scott nodded too.

“Only because I don’t trust them with you.”

Stiles offered a small smile, despite the knot forming in his throat. It was progress, at least. Erica looked at him curiously.

“What car did you drive here?”

“Jackson’s porsche,” Stiles grinned. Her eyes widened.

“He let you drive his  _ porsche _ ?”

“Not a scratch,” Stiles mimicked. Then he held out the keys. “Wanna drive it back?”

Erica’s smile was bright again. Stiles looked over at Scott and found his friend frowning, but the expression was a little less sure than before. He caught his eye and smiled quietly. A look passed just between the two of them. Scott’s hard expression faded.

The Alpha nodded and Stiles let himself feel hopeful again.


	11. See Me, Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's not good at negotiations, Scott can be even worse, and Stiles has a right to be a little peeved.

Derek dreamed of the fire.

He watched the smoke curl into the sky and felt Laura holding him close, her body trying to shield him from the heat. More so, she tried to keep him from seeing the flames. But there was nothing she could do to silence the screams. Derek could only squeeze his eyes shut and listen to his family burn.

He dreamed about this so many times, he knew what would come next. His mother would howl. Laura would go rigid. And as the flames died out, red would bleed into her eyes.

But this time, there was something different about the setting. A new scent lingered in the air. One different from the smell of burned flesh and ash that clogged Derek’s nose. It was the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. The thrum of thunder and lightning. 

Derek opened his eyes and Laura’s arms vanished around his neck. A figure stood over him, looking quietly down. Smoke made it hard for Derek to see or breathe, but slowly, gently, a hand took his and pulled Derek to his feet. 

It led him away from the fire. Derek followed blindly.

Dreaming of the fire wasn’t anything new. But this was different. There was a hand in his own and the forest changed around them. Suddenly, Derek was standing in front of his house again only this time, it wasn’t on fire.

Something in his chest twisted and snapped.

“It’s not your fault,” a soft voice said to his side. Derek looked over, but all he saw was a blur. “You’re not the enemy, Derek.”

Derek looked forward again. He heard laughter in the air and saw his mother standing on the porch. She was smiling, looking over the preserve with a proud, fond expression. The smell in the air was nothing other than the scent of home. 

Cinnamon, vanilla, and pack. Peter, his mother, his sisters, and brothers. 

Stiles.

Dreaming of the fire wasn’t anything new to Derek. But this was. He closed his eyes and breathed in all the scents, trying to memorize them forever. He didn’t ever want to let this go.

But his dreams never lasted forever

“Come on, Derek,” the voice said. The hand in his tightened. “It’s time to come back now.”

Derek didn’t want to. He tried to pull away, but the world around him was fading. He looked back one more time, and saw his mother smile. Her eyes met his own, glowing a vibrant red.

And Derek’s eyes snapped open.

Cora leaned over him, one hand clutching his own. Her face was strained and tight, but the moment his eyes opened, the expression shattered into one of relief. A smile broke across her face and she choked out a laugh, lurching forward.

“Derek! Dammit, Derek, you’re not allowed to do that again!” Cora said fiercely, face buried into the crook of his neck. “Do you understand me? You’re not allowed to ever do that again!”

“Cora,” Derek croaked out, one hand going down to his stomach. The gaping wound from the Alpha attack was gone. He sat up unsteadily and looked around, spotting Isaac and Jackson hovering a few feet away. They didn’t approach but looked like they wanted too, watching him with nervous eyes. “Cora, where are the others? Where’s Stiles?”

Cora glanced over at the others. Jackson raised his jaw and stepped forward. “They’ll be back soon.”

His heart didn’t skip a beat. There was something his betas weren’t telling him, but Derek was too exhausted to press. He leaned back into the couch and tried to remember everything that’d happened before he passed out, but his mind went blank after Kali ripped the metal piece from his chest. 

“Did you guys— was anyone else—”

“The Alphas were gone before we got back,” Cora said. “But we could smell them from a mile away.”

Derek closed his eyes. He could still smell them, but he could smell Stiles too. The scent was soft and sweet, like the faint remnants of whatever he’d been dreaming. Stiles should be here, his tired mind realized. What did the Alphas do after Derek passed out? His eyes snapped back open.

“Something happened. Where’s Stiles?”

“The McCall pack tracked us to the movie theatre,” Cora said quietly. “They managed to take Erica and Boyd.”

Derek sat up so fast, his body screamed in pain. He screwed up his face and threw his legs over the couch, studying her face. “When.”

“Over six hours ago,” she said. “You’ve been out for a while.”

“But Stiles went to get them,” Isaac said. “He’s going to bring them back, Derek.”

“You let Stiles leave?”

“He's not a hostage anymore,” Jackson said, surprisingly defensive. “In fact, I don’t think he’s been one for a while. He promised to get them back.”

“How long ago was that?”

“A few hours,” Cora said. “Stiles isn’t going to turn on us, Derek.”

Derek knew that. But he couldn’t help but stare at her, the same beta who’d been distrustful of Stiles since the beginning and was even willing to take him out in order to keep him out of play. Derek realized she was still holding his hand tight. He stared at the gesture for a long moment before looking up again. “He did something. To the Alphas.”

“I know,” she said. “We all felt it.”

“Deucalion's unhinged. We can’t take his pack on alone.”

Silence hung in the air. Derek could smell his beta’s wariness but also their acceptance. It was quiet and simple but it made him feel a little warm. He’d been able to read them much easier over the past few weeks and while that was new, it was nice. Comforting. Laura used to tell him she could always smell how he felt. Derek hadn’t felt that with his pack until recently. 

Isaac perked up suddenly.

Over the stairs came Erica and Boyd, both entering the room hesitantly. They looked tired and their scents smelled a little strained, but they were unhurt. Derek straightened as Stiles followed and then behind him, came two others. A male and a female, only one smelling like a wolf.

Like an Alpha.

In an instant, Derek’s betas were bristling. All except Jackson, who was staring at the red-haired girl with a dumbfounded look on his face. The Alpha— McCall— flashed his eyes and bared his teeth right back and Derek forced himself to stand.

“Enough,” he said, flashing his own eyes. His betas stopped growling.

Stiles stepped forward, eyes flitting between Derek and McCall. The boy rubbed the back of his neck and his scent reeked of anxiety, and Derek had to restrain himself from moving forward to check him up and down. He couldn’t smell any fresh injuries or blood, but Derek didn’t know what'd happened after he’d passed out. The last thing he remembered was an animalistic roar. 

McCall stepped to Stiles’s side, jaw clenched. “So you’re the one that took Stiles.”

“That was my uncle, actually,” Derek said, but he wasn’t trying to shift the blame. “Though the situation was in my hands after that. Stiles… he wasn’t harmed—”  _ necessarily _ — “during his stay here.”

“I found his hoodie,” McCall accused. “I smelled the blood.”

“I did that to make a point,” Derek said, clenching his fists. Scott growled and Stiles quickly stepped between them, throwing up his hands.

“Okay, guys, let’s not shed any blood here. Scott, you promised.”

“I promised to come,” Scott said, red eyes never leaving Derek’s. “I never said I’d play nice.”

“Scott, no, not cool. We didn’t agree to this.”

Scott’s stance was braced for a fight and while Derek’s betas had stood down, they looked ready to react. Derek knew one wrong move could trigger a fight. So he let his eyes shift back to normal and raised a hand, looking back at Stiles. “Did the Alphas hurt you?”

“What?” Stiles blinked, looking surprised. “No, they didn’t have a chance.”

Derek didn’t know what he meant by that. But Scott growled again, drawing his attention back, and Derek could smell the anger and— confusion?— radiating off of the Alpha. Scott’s nose visibly flared as he smelled Stiles and then smelled Derek. And his fangs shot out.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Derek said. Even Stiles looked surprised, looking at his friend.

“Scotty? What’s wrong?”

“He smells like you and you smell like him,” Scott said, words distorted by his fangs. He was starting to shift; not enough for it to be immediately noticeable, but enough to put Derek on edge. Derek clenched his fists and forced back his own shift. 

His wolf still growled, ready to defend his territory if needed. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Derek repeated. “Stiles has been surrounded by another pack for two weeks now, of course he doesn’t smell the same.”

“He doesn’t just smell like another pack,” Scott growled. “He smells different. He smells  _ wrong.” _

“Um, hey!” Stiles said, stepping forward to take Scott’s shoulders. He shook him slightly and Scott snarled, which nearly had Derek starting forward. He noticed similar reactions among his pack. But Stiles didn’t back down. “I’m still me, Scott! Don’t start anything, dude, you promised!”

Stiles’s shout was both a command and a plea, and power thrummed through it. Scott shifted back almost instantly and looked a little confused, blinking at Stiles in shock. He glanced down at his fingers, then shook his head. “S-Stiles?”

“There will be no bloodshed here,” Stiles said. “Because right now, none of us are enemies. Does everyone here understand me?”

Derek’s betas whined and flashed their throats. Derek noticed the red-haired girl watching in both surprise and interest. Scott visibly stood down, even with the red flickering in and out of his eyes. Derek stared in shock.

Then, the red-haired girl stepped forward. 

She stopped a foot away from Derek and studied him up and down. Then, suddenly, her hand connected with his cheek and Derek let out a roar of surprise as his head snapped sideways, pain exploding through his face. Cora howled and leaped forward, but Scott was in front of her in a second. Stiles made a noise of surprise.

But the red-haired girl didn’t even look affected or apologetic, brushing a wave of hair over her shoulder. She smiled with red lips and offered a hand.

“Lydia Martin. I’d like to say that if you ever kidnap my friend again, I’ll tear you limb from limb.”

Derek blinked at her for a moment. Then he took her hand, shaking it, and Lydia smiled in obvious self satisfaction. She stepped back again and Cora stopped growing. Stiles looked bashful.

“Lydia, seriously?”

“I thought you were dead,” she said primly. “I have a right to let my anger out on the idiot who caused that misconception.”

Stiles turned back to Derek with an apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek said, the response automatic. Stiles grinned.

“Okay,” Isaac said, sounding a little timid. Derek was surprised to hear him speak up and even Scott looked intrigued. “So we’re all here now. What happens next?”

They all looked around at each other. Derek knew since the beginning that he wouldn’t be good at hostage situations but this one had spiraled out of control. He didn’t do pack wars, he didn’t do hostage situations— so what was the additional treaty put on top of that?

“Um,” Stiles said. “We talk?”

* * *

Stiles knew there was no way this would work out perfectly. But he was pretty proud to admit it had gone a lot better than he’d expected. There’d been no bloodshed (yet), Scott had managed to keep himself from going feral, and Lydia had only slapped one person so far.

Derek’s betas grumbled as he ordered them downstairs. But they left without too much protest and soon it was only Boyd and the rest of them left. Stiles plopped onto the couch before realizing how out of place and confused both Scott and Lydia looked. He flushed.

“Um. Guess I’m kinda used to this place.”

Scott looked a little hurt at that. Lydia looked intrigued.

They all sat around the remnants of the coffee table, which Scott eyed for a long moment before fixing Derek with a distrustful gaze. Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to sense the tension.

He didn’t expect Derek or Boyd to be very talkative. So Stiles did his best to summarize the events of the past two weeks. He tried out to leave any possibly triggering details and could tell Derek noticed that. The Alpha hadn’t stopped looking at him since Stiles entered the apartment.

“The Alphas have been watching us since the beginning,” he said. “Deucalion’s the threat. That’s the most important thing right now.”

“I don’t get it,” Scott said, sounding slightly hurt. “Why didn’t you come back days ago?”

“It was, uh, complicated,” Stiles softly, though even he didn’t believe that. “Between the Alphas and Deaton and—”

“Deaton,” Lydia interrupted. “What’s his part in this again?”

“Oh,” Stiles said, flushing slightly. “I’ve just been training with him.”

“Training?”

Stiles screwed up his face. “We were thrown into this game without any actual knowledge about werewolves or the supernatural, you know? But there’s so much more that could’ve helped us out of dozens of situations years ago. Deaton’s been, um, helping me learn about all that. And about how I can help with everything.”

“How you can help with everything?” Scott looked confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stiles bit his tongue. He glanced around the apartment and pushed himself up, crossing the room. He grabbed one of Cora’s meditation candles and went back, setting it on remnants of the coffee table. Other than Derek and Boyd, Scott and Lydia looked confused. He focused on the wick.

Stiles didn’t struggle this time. The flame leaped to life. He grinned and sat back, looking over the expressions of his friends. “It’s nothing big yet, but…” Stiles remembered how he’d felt facing the Alphas. “I think it can become something more.”

“Stiles…” Scott said, looking at him. Stiles was surprised to see he looked hurt rather than amazed. “I don’t— it’s like—”

“Scott?”

“In two weeks, how is it like I don’t even know you anymore?”

Stiles drew back, staring at him in shock. He looked at Lydia but even she looked odd and wordless, which Lydia never was. He swallowed. “I’m still me.”

“I know,” Scott said quietly. “But you’re also different.”

“Different how?” Derek growled. Stiles looked at him in surprise, but Scott snarled in response, red seeping into his eyes.

“Just  _ different.  _ And it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Something’s wrong,” Scott said, voice raising. “Things are different. Things shouldn’t be different!”

“Scott!” Stiles shouted, shoving himself to his feet as Scott leaped up. He stepped in front of the two Alphas, hearing Derek’s returning snarls behind him. “Both of you! Stop!”

“The only things that have changed,” Derek growled out. “Are the Alphas. Is the fact that Stiles is strong and he can  _ protect  _ himself—”

“Derek!”

“The things that are different,” Derek continued, “is that Stiles is an Emissary. He’s meant to stand with the wolves, McCall, and that was his decision to make.”

“Stand with the wolves?” Scott snarled back. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means I’m right here!” Stiles shouted. He stood with his body positioned between them, so his hands were held out at both sides, each wavering in front of the Alphas’ chests. Sparks danced along the tips of his fingers. “It means you can’t go talking about me like I’m not, goddammit. Now you two can either talk this out like responsible Alphas or Deucalion is going to be the one winning and if that happens, I’m going to be pissed!”

Lydia made a soft noise of amusement from her perch on the couch. Boyd raised a single eyebrow, a rare smile tugging at the edges of his lips. Scott growled and turned away, chest heaving, and Derek dropped his eyes. Stiles lowered his hands.

“Right now,” he said quietly. “We’re a pack. A pack. One.”

“Stiles—”

“Overruled. I’m not taking criticism.”

“Stiles,” Derek said again, meeting his gaze once more. “Okay.”

“O-okay?”

“Okay.”

Stiles turned toward Scott. “Scotty?”

Scott clenched his fists and glared at the floor. Stiles stepped forward and took his shoulders, looking into his friend's eyes. Scott would barely meet his gaze. 

“Scott. You’re my brother. You’re my  _ Alpha _ . Tell me no and we’ll leave. But you know we can’t do this alone. Don’t make us do this alone.”

“Am I?”

“A… Are you what?”

Scott looked at him, vulnerable and pleading. “Your Alpha?”

Stiles closed his eyes and touched his forehead against Scott’s own, breathing in deep. He couldn’t smell pack scent like werewolves, but he imagined he felt it sometimes. Like a tug in his gut and the urge to hold and protect. He felt that urge now. “Scott, you will always be my Alpha.”

Because some part of him always would. Scott made a noise at the back of his throat and hugged him tight, hands over the back of his neck. Stiles swallowed. He wasn’t lying. He could never lie to Scott.

But maybe he wasn’t telling the whole truth either.


	12. Still Here (Always)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles adjusts, Lydia is a BAMF too, and Derek is not a failwolf (all the time)

They compromised by trading pack members.

Stiles thought it was a good idea. Scott didn’t seem very excited. Lydia didn’t make an argument but eyed the apartment with a glint in her eyes and announced she’d be happy for the extra space.

Stiles and Lydia would be staying with the Hale pack. Isaac would be going back with Scott. It was a gesture of goodwill and until they had a plan laid out, they’d hold pack meetings every other day. Until then, no one went off alone. Pack members on both sides stayed together. They agreed that the Alphas were the enemy, not the two packs.

Scott pulled Stiles in close at the door, as if Stiles was vanishing again for good this time. Stiles had pulled on the jacket Scott always wore after the Alpha had practically turned into a puppy pleading. Stiles imagined he smelled like an array of scents at this point.

“This isn’t goodbye, Scotty,” Stiles said, going for lighthearted. “I’ll see you tomorrow and then two days after that. Everything’s gonna be fine. Just don’t let Malia eat Isaac while he’s over there, yeah?”

“What?” Isaac asked, stiffening.

“Nothing,” Lydia said, shooting Stiles a look. “Don’t scare him.”

“I’m just saying,” Stiles said, raising his hands. “You gotta watch out for her, sometimes. She was a full blown coyote for a while, you know. Tried to eat me alive once or twice.”

Isaac looked more than nervous now and Lydia socked Stiles on the arm. Scott gave Derek’s beta a small, cautious smile. “You’ll be fine, man. I won’t let her eat you.”

Isaac tried to smile. Scott looked at Stiles one more time, nodding, before turning out the door. Stiles watched him go and felt a little lighter than he had in weeks. Then Lydia elbowed him in the side and he squawked.

“Hey! What the hell was that for?”

_ “Derek?” _

“D… Derek?” Stiles blinked, rubbing at his arm. “Uh, yeah, super grouchy, has expressive eyebrows, doesn’t know anything about  _ Supernatural,  _ which is a crime in itself. What about him?”

She raised a brow. Stiles scrunched up his face.

“You’re looking at me like I’m an idiot, but I don’t know why. I swear, I’ve only been back a few hours and I’m already getting that expression.”

“That’s because some things never change,” Lydia said with a sigh, turning away. “Come on, Stiles, give me a tour of this place.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes but complied.  _ What things never changed? _

Lydia was impressed by the fact that the apartment had four floors and a roof. She was especially intrigued by Deaton’s workroom and the bookshelf it contained, grabbing a few for  _ ‘some light reading later’  _ as she put it. Stiles introduced her to Boyd and Erica officially (which didn’t go too well), and then Jackson, who was less of a douchebag than he’d first met Stiles. In fact, he almost acted  _ shy. _

But that wasn’t right. Jackson the asshole didn’t get shy.

Lydia’s demeanor changed too, Stiles noticed. He was left staring in shock as Jackson volunteered to finish the rest of the tour and Lydia agreed without hesitation. It was like Stiles was no longer there.

Stiles had never been so thankful his crush on Lydia had gone away years ago. Because past him would be freaking out right now. Jackson and Lydia… he didn’t even want to think about that.

_ Oh god.  _ Stiles could see it but he didn’t want to.

Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He’d asked Scott to bring by a few of his things when they met up tomorrow; like his phone, laptop, and clothes. Things he’d been without for far too long. Well, not clothes, but he was tired of wearing Derek’s. They were far too big on him, even if he did like the way Derek’s henleys felt against his skin. They were soft.

The pack had also told Stiles’s dad he was missing. And that was a future phone conversation Stiles was dreading. 

“So you’re still here,” a voice said behind him. Stiles jumped and spun around.

“Dude, Derek! We talked about this. Heart attacks, man!”

Derek raised an eyebrow and came into the empty room, glancing around. “No Lydia?”

“She’s off with Jackson,” Stiles huffed. Derek looked surprised and Stiles wrinkled his nose. “I know. I’m shuddering just thinking about it.”

“So you’re okay with everything?” Derek asked carefully. “I mean, with how things went?”

“Of course, man,” Stiles said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just the thing you said to Scott,” Derek said, looking uncomfortable. He gazed down at his feet. “About him being your Alpha. I thought you'd want to be back with your pack.”

Stiles stared at him for a long moment, at a loss for words. Derek swallowed.

“Sorry, it’s not my business. It’s not my pack.”

“Hey,” Stiles said softly. He stepped forward and reached out, nearly taking Derek’s hands in his own. But he drew back at the last moment, painfully aware of the last time they’d been alone. Right before the Alphas had come. “It’s… I don’t know,” Stiles confessed. “Derek, I don’t know what it is, and that’s driving me crazy. But I’m here for a reason.”

Derek looked at him quietly. Stiles swallowed. 

“When Kali stabbed you, I couldn’t think straight. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“It wasn’t me I was worried about during that moment,” Derek said, like he was trying to be helpful. Stiles looked sharply away and felt his throat tighten, frustration crashing over him.

“I know, Derek, and that’s the problem!”

Derek drew back, looking surprised. Stiles took a deep breath and shook his head.

“You don’t care about getting hurt, Derek. Dammit, you don’t care about getting hurt at all! But if something happens, you know how I’ll feel?” Stiles looked away. “God, Derek, I don’t know how I’ll feel. But the last thing I want to do is find out.”

Stiles could feel Derek staring at him. He clenched his jaw and stared at the floor.

“And if you die… I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

“I’m not going to die,” Derek said softly. Stiles laughed humorlessly.

“You know, I’ve heard that before.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Derek was the one to finally close the last few inches between them. His hands covered Stiles’s own and grey-green eyes searched his. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve heard someone promise they’d keep living before, and that was the last thing they did,” Stiles said. He blinked hard, trying not to focus on the warmth that radiated off of Derek’s form. But it was hard. Especially since the only thing he wanted to do right now was lean into it. “It means that was the exact thing my mother told me a day before she passed in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said quietly. Stiles pulled away.

“Yeah, well, it happens.”

“When?”

“When I was eight,” Stiles muttered. “Frontotemporal dementia. There was nothing the doctors could do to save her.”

“What about your father?”

Stiles smiled softly, looking at his hands. “He’s the Sheriff back home. He’s also a phone conversation I need to have within the next day or so, as he’s probably been freaking out.”

“Freaking out?” Derek asked. Then he flinched. “Because of your abduction.”

Stiles shrugged helplessly, unable to dispute an obvious fact. He’d been kidnapped before, though never as long, and his dad always reacted the same. Stiles always felt guilty for scaring him. His dad always asked why Stiles couldn’t just leave this side of his life behind.

Stiles never had a good answer.

“You should've gone back with Scott,” Derek said. “You shouldn’t have to stay here.”

“Woah,” Stiles said, eyes snapping up. “Hold up, Sourwolf, I don’t  _ have _ to stay here. I chose to be here, dude. I want to be here.”

“You want to be here?”

Stiles tilted his head, looking at him. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Derek opened his mouth— and Peter came sashaying into the room, effectively cutting off conversation. The older man raised a brow and glanced between them, something akin to a smirk pulling at his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt? I just heard about this little pack agreement— good job Derek— and ran into a feisty little red-head.”

Stiles tensed. “Lydia?”

“She was very adamant about her disagreement regarding your abduction,” Peter said, looking amused. “She also backs quite the slap.”

Derek’s face rearranged itself into a frown. And a look of remembrance. Stiles resisted the urge to snicker and felt a sudden rush of fondness for Lydia. “Good to see you got what you deserved.”

“Good to see you and my nephew survived your little Alpha encounter.”

Stiles’s smirk melted. Derek stiffened quite obviously and Peter didn’t look apologetic about that fact at all. Stiles clenched his fists and glared at the wolf. “You should’ve been there.”

“To get myself killed?”

“To protect your pack,” Stiles snarled. “Does that word mean nothing to you?”

Peter’s face hardened. He looked at Stiles with an expression between grudging respect and thinly veiled discomfort. “Pack means everything to me.”

“Then next time,” Stiles said. “Protect it.”

Peter flinched at the words. Stiles had never actually seen the werewolf looked pained, but he did for a moment. There were a dozen emotions and memories warring for an expression on his face. Peter settled for smirking one last time and then turned, leaving the room. Stiles deflated.

“God, that guy gets under my skin.”

“Be careful around him,” Derek murmured, still eyeing the doorway his uncle had vanished into. “He sometimes has trouble with control.”

Stiles looked at him quietly. Derek blinked and shook his head. 

“Nevermind. Old memories.”

“You’ve got a lot of those,” Stiles said. Derek looked at him, eyes studying his face, and Stiles chewed on his lower lip. He debated moving forward, closing the space between them, but then shook himself. Derek— Derek knew him as Stiles. Previous hostage, current ally. Stiles wasn’t going to do anything to mess that up. It didn’t matter how he might be feeling.

Oh god, how he was feeling. Shaking his head, Stiles stepped another foot back. “Sorry, your past is yours, not mine.”

“I don’t mind you knowing,” Derek said. Stiles swallowed.

“But it’s not my business.”

Derek’s face tightened at that. He nodded tightly and the silence stretched between them. Thankfully, it was broken by Lydia coming back down the stairs, a single manicured brow raising as she glanced between them. Jackson looked utterly dazed.

“I’ll be staying with Jackson,” she said. Stiles spluttered and Lydia gave him a look, lips quirking up in amusement. “Problem?”

“With  _ Jackson _ ?”

“What’s it to you, Stilinski?” Jackson asked, flashing his eyes. Stiles shook his head, blinking a few times.

“Oh my god, absolutely nothing. I’m sure you two will be very happy together.”

Lydia smiled, throwing her hair over her shoulder and taking his hand, leading them down the next flight of stairs. Stiles stared after them for a moment, mouth hanging half-open, before shooting Derek a sideways glance. He looked just as surprised. Then Stiles burst into laughter and the smallest smile quirked up at the edges of the Alpha’s lips.

“That is going to either go so well or so badly,” Stiles said in a gasp. “Oh my god, I should’ve had her with me my first day here. Jackson would have been so much nicer.”

“Things weren’t too bad, were they?” Derek asked suddenly. “When you were here?”

Stiles looked at him in surprise. Derek looked uncharacteristically out of his depth and maybe even a little nervous. Or guilty. Stiles wouldn’t put that past him. 

“I mean, I know what you thought and how you felt,” Derek said quietly. “I could smell it on you all the time. Fear and anger and frustration.”

“I…” Stiles tried to choose his words carefully. “I didn’t know how to react at first. We’ve— Scott and I— run into a lot of different supernatural things back home, but never other werewolves. He was bitten by a rogue Alpha when we were just sophomores. Every day since then has been some kind of fight, it seems. I don’t know werewolf politics, but I didn’t expect to walk out of here alive.”

Derek flinched. “We wouldn’t have gone that far.”

“Not even if things had turned out differently? If Scott refused to play nice or if the Alphas never came?” Stiles had thought about that, but he’d been too scared to voice it out loud until now. “What if it’d just come down to our two packs? Who would’ve been the collateral damage?”

“Not you,” Derek said fiercely. Stiles swallowed.

“I’m not more important than anyone in my pack, Derek,” he said. “I’m the token human. And I’m no hero.”

“I was never supposed to be Alpha,” Derek said. “If we’re listing how we fall short.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles blinked in surprise. “Seriously?”

“It was supposed to pass from my mother to my older sister,” Derek said quietly. “Once she died, my uncle expected it would pass to him. But he was different after the fire. Weaker and out of his mind. He was crazed for a while after she was killed and the spark went to me.”

“The Alpha spark might have gone to Peter?” Stiles asked, shuddering. He didn’t want to imagine Peter as an Alpha. So much about that was just wrong.

“It wasn’t supposed to be me,” Derek said. “It shouldn't have been me.”

“You’re better than your uncle,” Stiles said. “You know that, right? And this, this pack? It’s—”  _ Different, strange, good.  _ “— It’s right.”

“Is it?”

“There’s a reason you chose them. And they chose you.”

“An Alpha needs at least three betas to be whole,” Derek said, looking at his hands. “Jackson was an accident. Cora was a surprise. Peter showed up and has yet to leave.”

Stiles chuckled at that. “Sounds like you have all the luck in the world.”

“I wasn’t always this cursed,” Derek said, smiling slightly. “I think Laura would have been both impressed that the pack’s survived so long and disturbed by what it’s become.”

“Yeah, well, Scott’s pack is made up of teenagers and whatever new supernatural friendly that had wandered into town.”

“So maybe I’m not failing in this,” Derek said to himself.

“You’re not failing, Sourwolf,” Stiles said, smirking fondly. “Not all the time, at least. I mean sure, your taste in movies and television shows needs work, and you read the books of a college professor mixed with a ninth grade reading list, but things could be worse.”

Derek raised a brow, looking appropriately unamused. Stiles grinned, winking at him.

“But you’re not a failwolf, yeah? Not entirely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be a little more spread out this week, as I've got my last few online college classes before final exams. But I hope to still be updating as often as possible! I adore you all <3


	13. My Mistake?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes rash decisions, the betas all know what's going on, and Derek is protective.

“Dude,” Stiles complained. “Patrolling is boring.”

Boyd shot him a long, silent look, just like he had the five other times Stiles said that. Stiles rolled his eyes and turned toward Erica, putting on his best pouting expression.

“Erica, patrolling is boring.”

“Nobody made you come,” Erica said, shooting him an unimpressed look. Stiles groaned. 

“Yeah, but the apartment is boring too. Peter is avoiding me, Derek can’t sit through an episode of  _ Supernatural  _ without crossing it _ ,  _ Cora’s idea of fun is playing ‘skin the Stiles’, and I’m scared to go into Jackson’s room. He and Lydia haven't left it since she got here.”

Erica gave him a sharp, knowing grin. “I could tell you what they’ve been doing, if you really want to know. Werewolf hearing has its perks sometimes.”

“Oh my god, no!” Stiles said, pulling a disgusted face. “I do not want to know what those two are doing behind closed doors, you creep. That would literally be scarring.”

“If you insist,” Erica said, shrugging. She didn’t look bothered by his response at all. “And what is this about Derek and  _ Supernatural?” _

“Just that the Sourwolf wouldn’t know good entertainment if it bit him in the ass,” Stiles groaned. Then his mind flashed to Derek’s ass and he choked, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Erica snickered, shooting him a knowing look, and Boyd looked disturbed. Stiles dropped his gaze, face turning hot. “Enough about that, though. Do you guys literally just walk around the apartment and consider that patrolling?”

“What do you think we did?” Erica asked, looking amused. Stiles shrugged.

“I don’t know, something much cooler. I mean, I guess your stupid werewolf senses can pick literally anything up, but still. This is boring.”

“Why do you think no one ever wants to be stuck on patrol?”

“Because you’re all a bunch of the laziest werewolves I have ever met,” Stiles said sincerely. Erica snorted, rolling her eyes, and Boyd shrugged.

“He’s not wrong.”

“So he speaks! Dude, that’s the first time I’ve heard you talk all morning. Is that why Derek made you his second? Do you both just sit in silence together during ‘pack report time’ or whatever you call it?”

“Pack report time?”

“I’m ninety percent sure that’s a thing.”

“You’re McCall’s second,” Erica said. “Do you and him ever do that?”

“I mean no, but we’re a mess.”

“And this pack isn’t?”

Stiles snorted. “Fair enough, Catwoman. Ten points to Slytherin! Which you would totally be in, by the way, and I’m not even sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Erica said, giving him a smirking look. “Because I would’ve killed you if you’d said anything else.”

“And there it is! That murderous streak we all know and love. Also, Boyd, you would’ve been in Gryffindor. You guys would’ve been star crossed lovers,” Stiles said, grinning. “Except totally under the radar and quiet about it.”

Boyd rolled his eyes. But he didn’t disagree, which Stiles thought was a response in itself.

They came around to the corner of the building and suddenly, both the werewolves froze. Going still too, Stiles followed their gazes and stiffened when he spotted a mark painted in red on the wall. It looked a little bit like a triskelion, but was sharper and jerkier. He swallowed.

“Is that blood?”

“It’s paint,” Boyd said, shooting him a vexed look. 

Stiles shrugged and stepped forward, ignoring both werewolves' growls as he traced his fingers over it. But the moment he did, a shock jolted through his body. Stiles gasped and jerked back, seeing red for a moment. Erica rushed to his side in a second.

“Batman?”

“I think I just saw something,” Stiles gasped, pulling his hand into his chest. “An abandoned building. Like the one the twins took me to but bigger and—”

“We need to tell Derek,” Boyd interrupted. Erica swallowed.

“I can smell them. But the scent is faint, like this was done hours ago. Sometime during the night, maybe.”

“So these daily patrols,” Stiles said weakly. “They should probably become nightly too, right?”

Boyd grimaced, taking out his phone. Stiles studied the mark, half tempted to touch it again, half terrified of what might happen. Whatever he’d see had been quick. Dark. Like a flash of memory that wasn’t all there.

Derek came jogging around the corner in less than two minutes. He stuttered to a stop the moment he saw the mark and red flashed through his eyes, a growl forming in the back of his throat. “Did you just find this?”

“The scent is old,” Boyd said. “But we just came across it.

“What’s it mean?” Erica asked.

“It’s the sign of an Alpha pack,” Derek said darkly. “It's a challenge.”

“What kind?” Stiles asked. Derek looked at him.

“Call Scott. Tell him to send someone around the loft and check for one too. The chance we’re the only ones who got it are low.”

Stiles swallowed nervously, pulling out his phone. He dialed Scott’s number from memorization and it only rang a few times before his friend picked up. Scott’s tone was instantly worried.

“Stiles? What’s wrong? How fast do we need to get there?”

“Nothing’s wrong, buddy,” Stiles said. “Or, not exactly, at least. Take Kira and do a once over around the loft. The Alphas left a painted symbol here and Derek thinks they might’ve done the same there.”

Stiles pulled the phone from his ear as he heard Scott moving. Derek was looking at the symbol like it’d personally offended him and Stiles glanced at his fingers again, shuddering slightly. Derek looked over sharply. “Stiles?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said, looking away. “Sorry.”

Derek’s brows furrowed but thenScott was back on the phone. He sounded breathless and a little distorted, like his fangs had come out. “Stiles, what is it?”

“It’s the Alpha pack sign,” Stiles said, his stomach sinking. “Derek says it’s a challenge.”

“What kind of challenge?”

Stiles looked at Derek, who was clearly listening in on their conversation. The Alpha shook his head and Stiles grimaced. “I dunno, man. They told us they’d be in touch after Derek killed one of his betas and he was supposed to do that days ago. So that might be it.”

“But why leave one at the loft, then? They haven’t even come by yet.”

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t change.”

Scott muttered something that sounded like agreement and Stiles hung up, studying the mark again. He glanced at Derek before stepping forward, reaching for it again. Derek caught his hand less than an inch away. 

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“I think I saw something,” Stiles said, trying to pull away. Derek held on tight. “The first time I touched it.”

“You touched it?”

“Only once. I saw a… flash of something. Like a room.”

Derek’s lips pulled back and Stiles tried to tug away again, but he held on tighter. Groaning, Stiles shook his arm up and down pointedly. 

“Dude, not cool. Let me go.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like anything, Sourwolf. What I saw—”

Derek tried to pull his arm away. Rolling his eyes, Stiles spun around and turned his body, reaching out with his other hand. Derek made an aportive movement to cut him off but Stiles rammed into the wall, his entire palm pressing against the mark. The second he made impact, his entire world went dark.

The last thing he heard was Derek shout his name.

Stiles stood in a dark room. It was big, shadowed, and cold. He was moving, pacing back and forth, and Stiles suddenly realized his body wasn’t his own. He was looking through someone else’s eyes, clawed feet clicking on the floor, and with a start, Stiles realized he was looking through  _ Kali’s  _ eyes. He would have reared back in terror and disgust, but he couldn’t move. Only watch like a passenger.

“Derek’s already proven he’s not going to kill a beta, Duke,” Kali said. “And if he’s not, what makes you think McCall will?”

“I don’t think Scott McCall will,” Deucalion said calmly. “Not without the proper motivation.”

“And what about Derek?”

“Everyone has their weaknesses,” Deucalion smiled. Kali snarled.

“You mean the boy. The  _ Emissary _ . Do you really think Derek will turn on his pack for a human?”

“I think Stiles is the key to both packs,” Deucalion said simply. “Scott McCall’s second and Derek Hale’s Emissary. Do you not remember what an Emissary is meant to do, Kali? They’re the ties that keep werewolves human. They broker the peace and bring packs together. There’s a reason the alliance between Hale and McCall has been formed.”

“So we kill him. Get him out of the way.”

“If Stiles dies, neither of the Alphas will ever be a part of this pack,” Deucalion said, as if that was the most obvious fact in the world. “His death will only inspire their vengeance.”

“So what do we do with him then?”

Deucalion turned toward her. Then he froze.

Stiles's heart stopped.

Something behind Deucalion’s black lenses suddenly flashed and Stiles caught the sharp glow of crimson red. Deucalion tilted his head and smiled, revealing fangs, and his face morphed into something dark; something twisted. Kali stiffened.

“Duke?”

“There’s one way to ensure both packs’ compliance,” Deucalion said. “We get the Emissary to stand with us. Don’t we, Stiles?”

Kali snarled and whipped around. Stiles stared at the opposite wall for a moment— the empty air and a strange symbol painted onto the cement— and then he was falling. A shout built up in his throat but wouldn’t come out; and suddenly Stiles was back in the real world, dropping to his knees. His eyes snapped open to see Derek crouched at his side, hands on his shoulders keeping him from collapsing sideways.

“Stiles? Stiles!”

“H-here,” Stiles gasped, clawing at Derek’s arm. “I’m here.”

But Stiles still felt like he was falling. Even though he could feel the hard ground beneath his knees, feel the cool air around him. He swallowed hard, looking up at the Alpha stymbol, and promptly scrambled out of Derek’s arms and away from it. Erica rushed to his side.

“Stiles?”

“I saw him,” Stiles said, voice coming out ragged. “Deucalion, I saw him. I was— I was looking through Kali’s eyes. Like I was— like I could—” He suddenly yelped and clawed at his neck, clapping a hand over one of the fading gashes Kali had left. Because suddenly, it was flaring hot and painful. Erica caught his arm, then made a noise of surprise and drew back as black strands raced up her arms. She stared.

“You’re in pain.”

Stiles groaned, curling in on himself. Derek was there in a second, hands taking his own. The Alpha winced as black started to climb up his arms too, but he didn’t let go. Derek’s fangs came out and Stiles felt the pain rapidly ebbing out of his body. He couldn’t hold back a gasp of relief. “Der—”

“Shut up,” Derek growled. “I swear to god, Stiles, the next time you do something like that, I’m going to kill you.”

“By ripping my throat out with your teeth?” Stiles said, attempting to laugh. Derek looked up with a snarl, flashing his eyes, and Stiles choked on his breath. “Okay, never mind. Bad idea.”

“What did you see?” Boyd asked, crouching down at his side. 

“Uh, Deucalion. He was talking and he looked at Kali and I think he saw me, or sensed me, or  _ something,  _ because his face changed.” Stiles shook his head. The pain had faded to a dull ache but Derek didn’t let go of his hands. “It was twisted. Not like a werewolf but distorted and black and—”

“Stiles,” Derek said, squeezing his hand. Stiles realized his breaths were coming out in short gasps and his heart pounded against his chest. He took a deep breath.

“I saw a marking on the wall before coming back. Some kind of company symbol. I think I can use it to track down wherever they’re hiding.”

“Later,” Derek said sharply. “Not now.”

Stiles looked at him in surprise, only to see real concern in the Alpha’s eyes. He managed a nod and tried to climb to his feet, only to nearly go tumbling back down. Derek growled and swept a hand under his legs, picking him up bridal style. Stiles startled with a yelp and slapped weakly at his arm, which Derek ignored.

“Dude! I can walk!”

“I’m sure you can,” Derek said, not letting him down. The other betas quickly followed and Stiles groaned, going limp. 

“Oh my god, you’re such an overprotective grump.”

Derek gave him an unimpressed look. Stiles scrunched up his nose and tried to shift, squawking when Derek tightened his grip. Once again, he slapped at his arm. 

“I’m just getting comfortable! Geez.”

“Just stay still,” Derek gritted out. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Sourwolf.”

Derek didn’t even deign to answer. He took him inside and up two flights of stairs, before depositing him down on the couch. Stiles grumbled and tried to right himself up, and Derek growled lowly. Stiles narrowed his eyes, sinking back down again. 

“Dude, I’m not dying.”

“You could have been.”

“I mean, maybe,” Stiles said. “But I’m not.” 

The other two betas stood in the doorway of the room and Derek shot them a sideways glare, flashing his eyes. Boyd promptly turned around and vanished from sight, but Erica rolled her eyes, flashing her own back. “Don’t be too hard on him, boss.”

“Get out, Erica.”

“Whatever,” she said, turning to follow Boyd. “You’re such a big baby.”

Derek growled and Stiles watched the exchange in fascination, only to shy away when Derek turned his furious gaze on him. Suddenly, he felt a little less intrigued. “Dude? Hey, no snarling at the messenger now. I still haven't figured out where Deucalion is at yet.”

“That was stupid,” Derek said angrily. “That was so stupid, Stiles.” 

“Hey, rude! I was trying to help out!”

“We don’t know the purpose of that symbol,” Derek shot back. “We don’t know everything the Alpha pack is capable of. Messing with it could’ve resulted in something a lot worse, Stiles. Do you realize that?”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything wrong,” Stiles muttered, shifting further into the cushions. “I knew I saw something. I couldn’t just pretend like I didn’t.”

“I know,” Derek growled out. “But I—”

“What, Derek? You what?”

“What happens if you get hurt, Stiles, huh? You told me I didn’t care about getting hurt, but what about you? Does that give you the right to not care either?” Derek’s eyes flashed red again and he turned away, voice dropping an octave. “You said you didn’t know how you’d feel if I got hurt. Well, dammit, Stiles, I’d be ruined.”

“I didn’t…” Stiles swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Derek wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Deaton’s downstairs. I’m sending him up and you’re not moving until the pack meeting tonight. Understood?”

“Derek—”

“I might not be your Alpha, but I’m your pack,” Derek said. “And I need you to be okay. So say yes, Stiles. Understood? 

“Yes,” Stiles said quietly. Derek nodded and turned toward the door.

Stiles watched until he was gone and then closed his eyes, biting down so hard on his lip it bled. He could’ve cursed himself except he didn’t see that ending any other way. Deucalion’s words spun through his mind. His name, the key, the packs—  _ fuck.  _ Stiles swallowed hard.

“I’d be ruined too,” he said softly.

Derek was probably too far away to hear. But maybe that’s why he’d waited so long. Stiles felt better just saying it out loud. When only he could hear it.

Because god, he’d be ruined too.


	14. My Pack (Mine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles comes to a realization, Peter comes on a little strong, and the pack meeting is off to a rough start.

True to his word, Stiles didn’t leave the couch. Deaton came up, but Derek didn’t return, and the druid looked more than a little surprised at Stiles’s story. He looked intrigued.

“You saw through an Alpha’s eyes?”

“I knew I wasn’t in my own body,” Stiles said, running his fingers over the scar on his neck. “But I was still experiencing everything. The cold of the room, the sound of Deucalion's footsteps. I couldn’t move but everything Kali did I did too.”

Deaton studied the healing cut Stiles thumbed. Self consciously, Stiles lowered his hand, but Deaton’s gaze didn’t leave the white scar. The man reached forward, touching it briefly. “That was from her?”

“Back when they kidnapped me,” Stiles mumbled, ducking his head. “Deucalion thought the beating would serve as a good message.”

“You said that when you came out of your vision, it was hurting again?”

“Just like the first time,” Stiles said, looking curiously at the man. Deaton hummed. “Does that mean something?”

“Well, an Alpha’s claws can serve as a carrier of memories, consciousnesses, and sometimes souls,” Deaton said. “It would seem when Kali attacked you, some untethered part of your Spark latched onto her. Possibly in defense, possible because of something else.”

Stiles shuddered, not wanting to think about any part of him latching onto any part of Kali. Gross. “Something else? What’s that supposed mean?”

“That a part of your subconscious was connected to her,” Deaton said. “It’s often a trick Emissaries use to keep connected with their packs when separated. Though it’s very hard to do and very rare for an Emissary to successfully complete the action. There’s a reason you were so exhausted after.”

“But the Alphas aren’t my pack,” Stiles said.

“No,” Deaton mused. “Though it seems your Spark is making connections as it goes. Likely with those it finds challenging and powerful.”

“Wait, what?”

“Simply put that your Spark is testing the waters,” Deaton said. “As an Emissary, it’s looking for a pack and an Alpha to attach itself to.”

“Scott is my Alpha,” Stiles said fiercely. Deaton raised a brow.

“So the connection has already been made?”

“How should I know?”

“Once your Spark decides on a suitable Alpha and pack, you’ll know,” Deaton said. “Both you  _ and _ the chosen pack will know, trust me, Mr. Stilinski. It’s a change you’ll all feel.”

Stiles stared at him. For a split second, his mind snapped back to when he’d faced the Alphas and stood between Deucalion and Derek, and something in his chest had just snapped. Something had changed and when he’d gone to rescue Derek’s betas, they’d claimed to have felt it too. Stiles swallowed.

“Once my Spark’s connected, is there a way to break the bond?”

Both of Deaton’s brows shot up. He looked genuinely surprised at the question. “What do you mean, break the bond?”

“To switch packs. Switch Alphas.”

“Connecting with a pack isn’t a pick and choose game, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said. “I suppose it could be possible, but it would be unheard of. And I have no doubt painful for both sides. Consider an Alpha losing a pack member, Stiles. It’s like losing a limb. That’s how it would feel to an Emissary losing a profound bond.”

“But it could be done.”

“Stiles,” Deaton said. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Stiles clenched his jaw. He tried to brush off whatever he’d felt a day ago. Deaton was sure both the Emissary and the entire pack would know and Derek hadn’t said anything to him. He’d even accepted Stiles's statement about Scott being his Alpha. There was no ‘profound bond’ between him and Derek, or any of Derek’s betas. There wasn’t.

“No,” Stiles said. “Nothing at all.”

Deaton didn’t look convinced. But he didn’t push either, giving Stiles a short look before zipping up his black bag. He slung it over his shoulder. “In that case, you have no other injuries to worry about, Mr. Stilinski. Despite Derek’s worries.”

“Derek was worried?”

“Very much so,” Deaton said in amusement. “I thought you were dying.”

Stiles grimaced, remembering Derek’s words before he’d left.  _ I’d be shattered.  _ Deaton watched curiously and Stiles offered up a small grin, shrugging. “I could’ve been. You never know with puny humans like me.”

“Indeed,” Deaton said. “I suppose so.”

Stiles watched him leave, not saying anything else. Not even a goodbye. He hadn’t forgotten about Deaton abandoning the Hale pack. Stiles knew he still needed Deaton to learn about his Spark and Deaton wasn’t a total asshole all the time, but Derek’s face danced in front of Stiles’s eyes every once in a while. Stiles couldn’t forget his expression when he’d admitted how Deaton had stopped being the Hale pack Emissary because he was the Alpha. How broken it’d been.

One day maybe Stiles would give Deaton a piece of his mind. God knew the man deserved it.

But at the current moment, Stiles groaned and buried his face in the couch cushions. He didn’t feel that terrible anymore. Sure, his scar still stung a little bit and he felt like he’d gone through the wringer and lost, but he’d felt worse before. And the pack meeting wasn’t for another hour.

He was going to get so bored.

Stiles pushed himself up and placed one toe on the floor. He felt like Derek would come storming up the stairs the moment he did, as ridiculous as that was. Part of him wouldn’t be surprised if Derek had a built-in ‘Stiles is being an idiot’ alarm. That’s what it seemed like anyway.

Someone did come up the stairs. Stiles yanked his foot back, except it wasn’t Derek; Cora eyed him from the top step, then rolled her eyes, coming into the room.

“Derek said you were being an idiot this morning.”

Stiles sighed. Derek did have a built-in alarm, he was sure. “Only a little bit.”

“He also said the Alphas are making their move.”

“I mean,” Stiles shrugged. “They basically graffitied a wall. That’s not as scary as it is an attempt at cliche villainy.”

Cora looked at him, unimpressed. “You should be a lot more scared than you are, Stilinski. The Alphas are coming and it’s going to be a lot worse than a simple graffiti job.”

“That’s cliche too.”

Cora rolled her eyes and dropped into the chair across from him. Stiles blinked in surprise at that. Sure, the female Hale was no longer trying to avidly disembowel him, but she still never went out of her way to do more than acknowledge his existence. He arched a brow.

“Are you here to murder me?”

“My brother would never approve,” Cora said. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“That’s not terribly comforting.”

“Stiles, I wouldn’t murder the person who protected my brother from the Alphas,” Cora said in exasperation. “Idiot or not.”

“Hold up,” Stiles said, staring. “Is this your copyrighted Hale way of saying that you no longer hate me?”

“I never hated you,” Cora said. Stiles snorted in disbelief and she rolled her eyes, shrugging. “Okay, maybe I did in the beginning. But the last time my brother brought a human into our home…” Cora clenched her jaw. “The last time my brother trusted someone, she stabbed him in the back.”

“Your family,” Stiles said softly. “He mentioned the fire. The girl.”

“Her name was Kate Argent,” Cora said savagely. “And she was a hunter.”

Stiles froze.

Argent… Kate Argent.  _ Allison Argent.  _ His brain did a number of things but mostly, it screamed in sudden alarm and panic. Cora narrowed her eyes in confusion and Stiles blinked a few times, taking an unsteady breath. “Kate Argent?

“She used my brother to kill our family,” Cora said coldly. “Which is why I refused to trust you at first. We surviving Hales have accumulated some trust issues.”

“But Kate Argent. She’s from…?”

“Beacon Hills,” Cora said. “That’s where the fire was, but none of us have been back since.”

Stiles couldn’t breathe. 

His heart slammed against his chest and his palms turned clammy as he took shallow, unsteady breaths. A memory from years ago came slamming back like a tidal wave; when his dad was still a deputy and had come home covered in soot and ash. Stiles had been too young to understand what’d happened, but his father said it was a fire in the preserve. A household fire where far too many had been killed.

It’d been reported as a gas leak. The survivors left town and never came back, and Stiles had never thought about it again. Cora eyed him, her look of curiosity turning to suspicion.

“Stilinski, what’s wrong? Your heart is pounding.”

“Derek never told me where he was from,” Stiles said. His mind was spinning. They’d grown up in the same town; they could’ve crossed paths at some point without even knowing it. Stiles’s  _ dad  _ had been at the aftermath of the fire. “I never realized. I should’ve, but I… I never put things together.”

“Put what together?”

“Oh my god, I need to talk to Derek,” Stiles said, pushing himself up.  _ Fuck,  _ Allison was coming to the meeting tonight. The meeting that was supposed to happen in less than an hour— Stiles shoved himself up, starting toward the stairs. Except Cora cut him off.

“Stilinski, what the hell? What’s wrong with you?”

“Cora, please,” Stiles said. “I need to talk to Derek. It’s important.”

“What’s important?”

“Cora,” he said again, desperation making his voice drop an octave. “Move.”

Cora stiffened and she flashed her eyes at him. Stiles growled in the back of his throat and felt sudden power buzz underneath his skin. Cora’s expression abruptly turned surprised and she shrunk back, giving him space to reach the stairs. Stiles didn’t even stop to consider why, moving past.

Stiles went upstairs first, bursting into Derek’s bedroom. But it was empty. Cursing, he searched the rest of the floor, and came up with nothing. Heading downstairs again, Stiles ducked into the training room and spotted Isaac, Erica, and Boyd taking turns sparring. But no Derek. They all gave him confused looks, but Stiles left before they could ask any questions.

Jackson’s door was tightly shut. Stiles didn’t dare go in there. Deaton’s office was empty.

Stiles rounded the corner only to stumble back as he ran face-first into Peter. Yelping, he pinwheeled against the opposite wall and grunted in pain, no doubt adding an additional bruise to his already aching body. Peter raised a brow.

“Aren’t you in quite the hurry. Going somewhere, Stiles?”

“Oh my god, dude,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “Do you slink everywhere you go?”

“I was walking,” Peter said flatly. The werewolf studied him and then his brows furrowed, an expression of intrigue crossing his face. “Is there a reason for your rush? I’d say you’re panicking if I didn’t know any better.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing you do,” Stiles said, starting to shove past. But he didn’t make it a foot before Peter caught him around the neck and rammed him back against the wall again, claws coming out to tip against Stiles’s skin. Stiles froze.

“I’ll ask again, Stiles, because now I’m curious. Care to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to find Derek,” Stiles snarled out. “Let me go.”

“My nephew is keeping an eye out for your friends,” Peter said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Because of course, we’d hate for the first meeting between packs to go badly. What do you need with him?”

“None of your business, asshole.”

“Quite on the contrary, as Derek is my flesh and blood, I’d believe it is very much my business. Now do you plan on indulging me, or should I dig my claws a little deeper?”

Stiles drove his knee up, grinning crashing over him as it met its mark. Peter grunted in surprise and hunched over, his grip loosening just enough for Stiles to squirm free. But he didn’t make it around the wolf before he was cornered again. Peter’s eyes glowed blue as he snarled.

“I was the one that brought you into my nephew’s home,” Peter said. “At the time, I thought it would be a good political move. But I didn’t expect for Derek to ever trust you, Stiles. And as you know, when my nephew becomes attached to something, he doesn’t let it go very easily.”

“So how do you think he’d feel about this?” Stiles glared. He needed to get by but he couldn’t.

Scott would be arriving at any moment and Stiles wanted to be between him and Derek before Allison could be introduced. Because Peter was right; one wrong move and their pack alliance could be ruined. If Derek thought they were trying to bring an Argent into his pack…  _ Fuck. _

“Let me by,” Stiles said in a growl. “Please, Peter, this is important.”

“Good,” Peter said. “Then enlighten me.”

“Oh my god, you absolute asshole,” Stiles tried to dart by, but Peter cut him off, teeth bared and claws out. Stiles stumbled back again. “Peter!”

“Do you know what I would do to protect my family?” Peter asked. “There was a time I failed them, Stiles, but I won’t again. The last thing I expected my nephew to do was trust another stranger in our pack. But that works well for you, doesn’t it? You and your pack of teenagers have the protection of the Hales until it’s not necessary anymore. Tell me, Stiles, what do you plan to do then?”

“Goddammit, Peter, I’m not the enemy,” Stiles snarled. Peter’s eyes flashed.

“So I’ve heard, many, many times.”

“Then maybe you should start believing it!”

“And why would I?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, stepping back. “What do you want me to say, Peter, huh? That I was scared shitless of this place at first? That I hated myself for starting to trust Derek’s pack after the first  _ three days _ ? Or do you want to know that I’d do anything to protect them now! Is that it, Peter?”

Blue eyes flickered. Stiles glared at him.

“Or maybe you want to hear how I’d kill anyone that dared hurt my pack? Because dammit, Peter, the Hale-McCall pack is under  _ my  _ protection! I’m not going to let anything threaten that,” Stiles said, clenching his jaw. “No one. Now let me by.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The tension in Peter’s shoulders ebbed away and he eyed Stiles, the light in his eyes becoming something dimmer. “Your protection?”

“Is that not what an Emissary does?”

“The Hale pack hasn’t had an Emissary for years.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “But my pack does.”

Peter straightened. “So that’s what happened when the Alphas attacked. You chose.”

“I didn’t choose,” Stiles said. “I compromised.”

Something in Peter’s expression changed. 

The wolf narrowed his eyes and Stiles thought he’d have to fight again, but then Peter stepped out of the way. Stiles only hesitated for a moment before starting by. But then Peter’s hand darted out at the last second, catching his arm. Stiles froze, glaring at him. “Peter.”

Except this time, the grip wasn’t threatening. It was cautious. Careful. Peter looked at him for a long moment before saying in a low voice, “Don’t ever betray my family.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” Stiles said, his glare melting. “And don’t assume they haven’t become my family too.”

Peter let go. 

Stiles started down the hall, heading for the door, and he felt Peter’s eyes following. Stiles’s heart slammed against his chest and he knew why.  _ Hale-McCall pack.  _ But he didn’t let himself think about that right now. The current problem was the pack meeting. About getting between Derek and Scott before—

A sharp roar suddenly struck the air. Stiles’s heart stopped.

_ Oh shit. _


	15. Tense! Situations!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek isn't prepared for this, Stiles is trying to help, and Scott has a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the word count on this fic got a lot bigger than I originally expected, which I'm actually loving. I'm also just pulling things out of thin air as we go along, so I'd love to hear what you guys think. Also, werewolf politics! I know nothing about them! (but does anyone?)

_ “Allison Argent.” _

And all Derek saw was red.

There was a part of him that saw it coming the moment he’d caught her scent. The brown-haired girl stood at Scott’s side smelling like gunpowder and charcoal. She had a light, charming smile, and Scott introduced her first, like he was proud of being sided with a hunter.

_ Argent. Allison Argent. _

Derek saw red and his wolf howled.

But before he could move, there was a body diving between them, cutting Derek off as he roared and waving his hands in front of Scott’s face as the other Alpha snarled. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled Derek’s nose and desperate hands pushed against his chest as Derek tried to move forward.

“No, Derek, no!”

_ Stiles. _

Stiles screwed up his face and braced himself, using all his strength to hold Derek back. Something twisted in Derek’s chest, like a rubber band snapping back into place and he froze, looking down at the boy. Behind Stiles, Scott’s eyes were bright red and behind him, the McCall pack was tense. Argent stared.

“Derek,” Stiles said. “Derek, she’s okay. Allison isn’t Kate.”

Allison straightened. Derek looked at Stiles in shock.

“What?”

“Kate, she’s not Kate. She’s her niece but I swear, Derek, Allison would never hurt anyone. Unless they deserved it. Like really deserved it. But she rarely does that.”

Derek looked back up. Allison was staring between them like she didn’t know what to do with this turn of events, and Scott was still growling. The rest of the McCall pack waited on the orders of their Alpha. Derek realized with a sinking heart that he’d nearly ruined everything. He’d nearly ripped this girl’s throat out because of a name.

Swallowing, Derek retreated backward. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Hey,” Stiles said, one hand still on his chest. “Hey, now, don’t do that. None of us knew. Cora was talking to me upstairs and I didn’t realize until it was too late. Then Peter was being an asshole and going all overprotective creepy uncle, but that’s nothing new.”

Derek stared at him. Stiles blushed.

“Sorry. Point is, don’t angst on me now, dude. Are you okay?” 

“Is he okay?” Scott snarled, eyes flashing again. “Stiles, he nearly attacked Allison!”

Stiles winced, like he’d forgotten the rest of their audience. Derek couldn’t stop staring at the boy as he turned around, facing the others. One hand stayed resting against Derek’s chest. The other was held out in some sort of defense. “It’s a long story, Scotty.”

“A long story? Dude, he heard Allison’s name and went feral!”

Derek flinched, looking sharply away. His face burned and his wolf howled, torn between defending his actions and curling up into a tiny ball. Would he have actually hurt her? If Stiles hadn’t intervened? One name and Derek hadn’t even been able to think straight.

But this girl… She was a hunter. She was an  _ Argent.  _ A familiar rush of anger crashed over Derek as he realized the McCall pack wanted to bring a hunter into his ranks. Into his home. Something Derek had done before and he’d lost everything for it.

“She’s an Argent,” Derek said in a snarl, turning back toward Scott again. “Do you know what their family does for a living?”

“Yeah,” Scott said, eyes flashing in challenge. “Yeah, she’s a hunter. But they don’t go after our kind anymore. Allison’s not a threat.”

“Actually, I’m plenty of a threat,” Allison said, earning a growl. “But only to those who threaten me first.”

Stiles winced. “Allison—”

She gave him a look, arms crossed, But it didn’t seem like anybody could give Stiles a look without softening, because Allison's defensive stance relaxed. Derek could smell the change in her scent as she shook her head, turning from gunpowder and ash to something more vibrant and sweet. His growl died in his throat.

Stiles looked over at him. His amber eyes were pleading.

“Derek, I know how this looks. But none of us knew and if we had—”

“Knew what?” Scott asked. “Stiles, what’s going on?”

Stiles clenched his jaw, looking at the ground. Derek smelled his anxiety and hesitance and knew why. Because it wasn’t Stiles’s story to tell and the boy knew that. His fangs threatened to come out as Derek forced himself to meet Scott’s eyes. He saw the look of an Alpha in them. Scott was defending his pack; Derek would have done the same.

“Der,” Stiles said softly. “You don’t have to.”

But he did.

“Kate Argent killed my family,” Derek said, the name tasting like poison on his tongue. “Twelve years ago. She trapped my family in the basement of our house and set it on fire. Only three of us survived.”

Allison flinched like she’d been slapped. Scott growled lowly at his throat but Derek held his gaze, refusing to back down. He’d said his part. How the McCall pack reacted to an accusation like that was on them; and could make or breath this alliance.

Stiles deflated a little. The boy’s hand on Derek’s chest slid off and Derek reached up, catching it midair. Stiles looked at him in surprise. Derek squeezed gently.

_ You don’t have to,  _ Stiles had said. Even though it could’ve made things even worse. He’d given Derek an out.

Derek didn’t know what to do with the way his throat constricted.

“I haven’t spoken to my aunt in years,” Allison said finally. “Not since she came to Beacon Hills and tried to kill Scott and his pack. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Derek’s wolf whined. She was alive— because he’d know if she was dead. Derek couldn’t explain how, but he just would. There’d always be a part of Kate that haunted him, even in her grave. Derek still waited for the day when he knew she was dead.

“It’s her name,” Derek said, forcing the words out. “It’s her name that’s the trigger, not… Not you. I’m sorry.”

Allison’s face visibly softened. She offered a small smile and threaded her fingers through Scott’s, which made the Alpha relax some too. Stiles let out a breath and Derek let himself look at the boy briefly. He felt more grounded when he did, before turning back to the McCall pack.

“I trust Scott McCall and his intentions,” Derek said. Scott’s eyes widened a little in surprise. “You wouldn’t endanger your pack which means if she’s a part of it, she won’t endanger mine either.”

“No,” Scott said. “Allison wouldn’t.”

Derek forced himself to nod, despite his warring emotions. The door behind him opened a crack and he turned as Boyd glanced out, eyes roving over the McCall pack. The beta looked at him curiously. “Derek?”

“Pull my uncle and sister aside,” Derek said quietly, even though he knew the other werewolves could hear. “I need to speak to them personally before they meet the rest of the McCall pack.”

“Got it, boss,” Boyd said, vanishing out of sight again. Derek turned back forward.

Negotiations like this was something Laura had been taught how to handle. Growing up, Derek never had to worry about meeting other packs or keeping the peace. He wasn’t going to be the Alpha; it wasn’t his concern. So he’d never paid attention when his mother schooled Laura on how to deal with an alliance or possible pack war. Derek was sorely regretting that now.

But the McCall pack, at least, wasn’t trained in werewolf politics either. This was new territory that they were going to have to figure out together. Derek couldn’t help feeling a little relieved at that.

Though, the idea of bringing another pack into his home still made his wolf nervous. Derek focused on Stiles’s presence only a few inches away and swallowed. “Stiles will take you all to the third floor.”

Stiles looked at him in surprise and Derek nodded. He trusted Stiles to keep everyone calm and in line. Both his pack and Scott’s. Derek trusted the one thing that held them together, he realized. The one thing that could make this all work out. 

_ Stiles. _

“Don’t let Peter get under your skin,” Stiles said, after studying his face for a second longer. Derek nodded and Stiles offered a small smile before turning inside. One by one, the rest of Scott’s pack followed. Scott let them go in first, a shield between Derek and his pack on instinct. 

Only when everyone else was inside, did Scott start forward. But he hesitated in the doorway, giving Derek a quick glance. He looked like he was about to say something, mouth opening and closing. But Derek could smell his indecision and Scott decidedly didn’t say a word, ducking inside. The door swung closed, leaving Derek alone in the silence.

He took a deep breath. 

Derek’s heart was thudding against his chest and there was a small tick to his fingers, he realized, not noticeable to anyone but himself. If he’d had the time, Derek might’ve sunk to his knees and just breathed, focusing on the words  _ ‘alpha, beta, omega’  _ that currently spun through his mind. But he didn’t have time. He was the Hale Alpha and he had to stand with his pack. Derek forced himself to turn toward the door.

He wondered if his sister was watching. And what she thought, watching him try not to fail.

Derek wondered if his mother would've been proud.

* * *

Stiles didn’t know if that had gone well, terribly wrong, or things were just kind of working out and he should be keeling over in relief. His heart was still pounding, after all.

The pack wandered around the third floor and Stiles shifted from foot to foot, glancing at the stairway. It was probably a good thing Derek was dealing with Peter and Cora alone, because Stiles didn’t want to even think about how they’d react to Allison’s presence. He hoped Peter wouldn’t show up. And Cora wouldn’t try to murder anyone.

Danny came over after a few minutes, giving him a warm look. Stiles offered a small, nervous smile, wetting his lips.

“So, no deaths yet,” he said. “I feel like that’s a good sign. I mean, sure, there was nearly a little mangling, a little mauling, but no death. I feel like that’s a pretty important distinction.”

Danny laughed. “Sure, Stiles.”

“I mean… this isn’t a far throw, is it? All of—” Stiles gesture around the room. “This.”

Danny followed his gaze around. 

Malia was intimidating the pants off of Isaac in the corner, despite Kira’s best efforts to pacify her. Boyd and Erica had been cornered by a far too eager Liam and Mason, and Jackson still hadn’t left Lydia’s side, who was already getting along famously with Allison. Scott looked a little constipated. Puppyish and constipated, but he hadn’t left Allison’s side either. Stiles’s heart skipped a beat as Danny shrugged. 

“Could be worse.”

“Dude, you’re such a light of positivity. You and Jackson would get along great.”

“The hot one with Lydia?”

Stiles choked on his own spit and Jackson looked over, a look of surprise spreading across his face as he caught Danny’s words with werewolf hearing. Stiles flushed bright red and gagged, but Danny only grinned and waved. Jackson smirked.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “No, don’t ever say anything like that again. Nevermind, I don’t want you two to get along. Ever. That would be my worst nightmare.”

“What about Derek then?” Danny asked. “I’d climb that like tree.”

_ “Danny,  _ fuck!”

Danny grinned at him, brown eyes dancing. Stiles might’ve gotten over his slight crush on the guy years ago, but that look was still so gently familiar. And a little teasing. “What, am I wrong? Sure, he’d probably break me in half, but isn’t that the fun part?”

“Danny, no!”

Danny rolled his eyes, still grinning. Stiles looked anywhere but his face and caught Erica smirking at him from across the room. Stiles groaned and glared at the floor.

“I hate you.”

Danny shrugged, opening his mouth. But Derek came over the top step before he could say anything else, a stone-faced Cora at his side, and the room went quiet. Peter was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. Cora glanced around the room before scowling and stalking over to Stiles. 

“You,” she said, taking a reluctant place at his side. “Have some explaining to do.”

“Me?”

“Argent, Stiles? Seriously?”

“Do you really think you would’ve taken it better from me than Derek?” Stiles asked, trying to keep the conversation as soft as possible. He hated werewolf hearing sometimes. “I had to get to him first, you know that.”

Cora frowned, not answering. She gave Danny a once-over, who attempted a small smile, and then scowled deeper. The room was still quiet as Derek moved over too, and Stiles thought he looked a little sick. He couldn’t really blame the guy, but Stiles still offered his best comforting smile. It’s the least he could do. 

“Hey, big guy. How’s Peter?”

“Gone for now,” Derek said gruffly. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Well, that’s better than commiting mass murder, right?”

Derek winced. “I guess. So now we…?”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence as Scott came over. The Alpha looked between Stiles and Derek and his face did something strange, but he didn’t say anything. Stiles didn’t know what to do with the relief he felt at that. 

“Derek,” Scott said. “I know you said you trusted me.”

Derek nodded silently. Scott fidgeted.

“So I thought I should let you know something about the Alphas. Or, the Alphas and me. My pack. Whatever. I mean—” Scott was rambling now and Stiles stared. Scott didn’t do that unless he was actually nervous. “I met with Deucalion. This morning.”

Stiles stared. Scott dropped his eyes to the floor.

“He wants to cut a deal.”


	16. Dude, Kinky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott admits to a few things, Stiles is determined to protect his pack, and Derek has some feelings.

Sometimes, things went from bad to worse. Stiles thought this was a pretty good representation.

He stared, words locking up in his throat. Suddenly, Scott’s constipated, anxious looks all evening made sense. The way he wouldn’t leave Allison’s side and would barely look at any of them. Derek had gone rigid and Stiles’s didn’t need to look over to see his red eyes. Some part of his mind was laughing hysterically.  _ Things couldn’t just be simple for once? _

But no, of course, they couldn’t be. This was failwolf central and Stiles was stuck in the middle of it all.

“Scott,” he said slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean, Deucalion wants to cut a deal?”

“Deucalion sent a message this morning,” Scott said quietly. “He wanted to meet me. To talk. I brought Isaac as backup but—”

“The others knew?”

Scott swallowed. “Only Isaac. I was going to bring it up tonight.”

“Scott!” Stiles shouted, voice strained. “Do you not remember what happened the last time the Alphas wanted to ‘meet’ with one of us? Derek was  _ impaled.” _

“I’m not Derek,” Scott said stubbornly. Derek flinched and Stiles breathed through his nose, watching Scott’s face as the Alpha realized how bad that’d sounded. Scott shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. But Stiles, he threatened the pack.”

“Then why didn’t you call?”

Scott didn’t answer and if Stiles was honest with himself, he knew why. Scott McCall had a heart of gold and the complex of a hero. He’d throw himself under a bus if he thought it’d save a bunch of innocents. He’d face an Alpha pack if he thought it would protect his own. 

“Scotty,” Stiles said. “What did he want?”

“I had backup,” Scott started, and Derek growled lowly.

“You had Isaac.  _ My  _ pack member as backup. Do you not realize he could’ve been killed?”

“He insisted,” Scott mumbled. Stiles took a deep breath.

“What did Deucalion want?”

“He said he could help,” Scott said softly.

“With what?”

“He said he could help protect the pack,” Scott said, not looking at either of them. If the room was silent and watching, nobody acknowledged that. “Our pack. He said he could get you back and—”

“Scott, I’m not in  _ trouble.” _

Scott looked at him fiercely, hackles raising and eyes flickering between brown and red. Liam, Hayden, and Malia whined. The others looked uncomfortable. “I know that, Stiles! But you were once and I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t even find you! And then you came back and everything was different and suddenly we’re fighting against a pack of  _ Alphas,  _ and what was I supposed to do?”

“Trust us,” Stiles said. “Trust me!”

“I do trust you! Stiles, you’re my brother, my second! But then Deucalion said you’re training to be a— a— an Emissary— for another pack and what am I supposed to do with that?” Scott visibly deflated. “I could smell the bond when I first came here, but I didn't know what it was. And Deucalion said I had to protect you, to be there for you. Or I’d never see you again.”

Stiles stared at him. The entire room was silent and while every eye was on them, Stiles didn’t see anyone but his best friend. Looking like he’d just lost a pack member; looking like he had when he was six years old and telling Stiles his father’d left and was never coming home.

A month ago, Stiles would’ve fought anybody who would have tried to take him away. Who would’ve tried and challenged Stiles’s loyalties. But here they were, one month later, and Scott was terrified. Of losing  _ him.  _ His brother by bond, if not by birth or blood.

“I’d never trust him,” Scott said quietly. “I’d never trust Deucalion. But he was there and he was saying those things and— and then Isaac threatened to kill him. When he mentioned you, Isaac threatened to rip his throat out. Deucalion laughed and told me to think about it.”

Stiles swallowed. “To think about an alliance with the Alphas?”

“He wants Derek to kill his pack and for us to stand with him,” Scott murmured. “He said he’d spare the others if we did.”

Growls vibrated across the room. But not only from Derek’s pack, Stiles noticed. All the weres looked murderous and all the others were stiff. They really were a toss up of unexpected alliances, Stiles realized. He felt a strong rush of protectiveness. For all of them.

“I told him,” Derek snarled. “I wouldn’t touch my pack.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Scott asked. “An Alpha killing its pack? Stiles trusts you! Stiles would never trust someone who’d even think about doing that. But Deucalion’s given his ultimatum. We do as he says or he’ll kill everyone.”

“What does he want from me?” Stiles asked. Scott looked at him carefully.

“He wants an Emissary.”

Stiles balked. “What? But I’m not even close to that yet! Dude, I can barely light a  _ candle.” _

Over near the corner, Erica shifted. “You defended Derek against the Alpha pack,” she mumbled, though it was loud enough for the rest of the room could hear. “You saw through Kali’s eyes.” 

Stiles backpedaled. “On accident!”

“So what happens when you do something on purpose?” Cora challenged. Stiles flinched.

_ Fuck. _

“So he wants two new Alphas and an Emissary,” Lydia said, crossing her arms. “That’s his deal?”

“That’s his deal,” Scott mumbled. 

“Fuck his deal,” Jackson growled. “Does he really think we’d agree?”

Silence reigned over the room. Derek? Stiles knew Derek would never agree. He’d kill himself before he killed his pack. And Scott? Well, Scott would give himself up to protect others. But he wouldn’t agree to the trade of another pack’s lives for that. Stiles swallowed.

“So it’s gonna be a fight then.”

“It’s gonna be a massacre,” Cora said darkly. Derek gave her a warning look and she rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, it’s an Alpha pack. The kind of pack everyone fears. There’s a reason for that.”

“They should fear us,” Malia said bluntly. She looked around the room in challenge. “It’s two packs and two Alphas against a blind man. He should be scared of us.”

“The Hale-McCall pack,” Stiles said softly. A dozen eyes snapped to him in surprise.

“What?”

“The Hale-McCall pack,” Stiles repeated. Lydia looked intrigued.

“The Hale-McCall pack,” she said, rolling the words over her tongue. Both Derek and Scott watched quietly as she smiled. “I like it. The Hale-McCall pack and its Emissary.”

Stiles had never loved her more.

* * *

The apartment was four floors and currently home to a pack of over a dozen supernaturals and their humans. Derek had never been good with large groups and never thought his pack would be anything beyond his betas and family, but this… this was different. This was good.

Derek thought this could be good.

Stiles and Scott had outlasted everyone else, spending the beginning of the night in the kitchen discussing things quietly. Derek didn’t know what exactly and he didn’t listen in, even though he could. His wolf was still prancing in circles because of Stiles’s last words.  _ Emissary.  _ The Hale-McCall pack Emissary _. _

Hale-McCall. It didn’t sound wrong on Derek’s tongue.

Derek didn’t expect to see Stiles again for the rest of the night, so he turned in early. He really didn’t expect to hear a knock on his door a little past two and sit up to see Stiles peek in, the boy’s scent tinged with nerves.

“Hey, Sourwolf? You awake?”

“I am now.”

Stiles pushed the door all the way open and just stood there, dim light spilling into the room. He smelled like exhaustion, nervousness, and relief all in one and it was a strange scent. Derek couldn’t tell which emotion was the most overpowering.

“Stiles,” he said, sitting up slightly on his bed. “What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep,” Stiles said. “Too many thoughts.”

Derek tilted his head. “And that brought you here because...?”

Stiles flushed and Derek noticed the addition of sheepishness adding to his scent. He sat up straighter and stared, making out Stiles’s amber eyes in the faint light.

“Stiles?”

Stiles swallowed. “I can go.”

“Stiles, come here.”

Standing in the doorway, the boy froze. Derek’s heart dropped for a second, sure he’d read the situation wrong, and then Stiles was moving, obviously not giving himself a change to change his mind before climbing into the giant bed. Derek tried not to stare as he burrowed under the warmth of the blankets. “Thank you, dude.”

Derek nodded quietly. Stiles huffed and burrowed deeper.

Stiles was only wearing a pair of sweats and Derek was only in his boxers and a t-shirt, but he didn’t feel as self conscious about that as he probably should. Which was… fine. Or something. Derek could hear Stiles’s heart pounding. It was faster than usual.

That was fine too. Or something.

Silence fell over the room for a moment, only to be broken by Stiles shuffling around again and eventually, flipping over to face him. Amber eyes blinked and Stiles grinned goofily, and Derek felt his heart stutter. “Hey there, big guy.”

“Stiles, go to sleep.”

“So, nobody died today. That’s nice, right?”

Derek rolled his eyes, coming to the realization that Stiles wasn’t sleeping until he’d talked himself out. Which really shouldn’t be surprising. “Technically, it was yesterday.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, scrunching up his face. “You’re such a stickler for accuracy.”

“Really?”

“Admit it,” Stiles said. “You’re relieved too.”

“Between Argent and McCall? I think I have the right to be.”

“Scott means well,” Stiles murmured. “He just tries too hard sometimes. He’d give his life to protect the pack, though.”

Derek felt his heart clench. Stiles’s eyes widened.

“Dude! I know you would too, oh my god. It’s just— Scott can be an idiot. I mean like, wearing his heart on his sleeve in a room full of clawed werewolves kind of idiot. But he’s my idiot.” Stiles's face softened. “I’ve known him since we were kids. We grew up together.”

“I’m sorry for ever taking you from him,” Derek murmured. Stiles looked at him with a fond expression.

“You’re kind of my idiot too,” Stiles said. When Derek blinked, the boy’s scent twisted with uncertainty and Stiles squirmed, dropping his gaze. “I mean, unless you don’t want to be. In which case, you can be the big bad Alpha who yells at me for always nearly dying and throws me up against walls every once in a while—”

“Stiles,” Derek said, cutting him off. “Shut up.”

Stiles blinked at him.

“You annoy me,” Derek said. “You get under skin and you’ve stayed there, like a parasite.”

“Ouch, dude.”

“But,” Derek said, impatiently. “You ground me. You keep me steady. And it’s different. Because… I haven’t been anchored to anything else other than my anger for years.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered. “Am I your anchor?”

“I think you’re starting to be,” Derek said quietly. He hadn’t planned on ever admitting that out loud. But this night was turning out to be much different than he’d expected. “If that’s okay.”

“Are you seriously asking me permission to have control over your wolf?” Stiles asked, looking incredulous. Derek rolled his eyes.

“I’m asking permission for you to be the control over my wolf.”

Stiles stared at him. Derek’s heart thudded nervously and he nearly said something else to brush the question off, when Stiles suddenly leaned forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s own. Derek went rigid with surprise, feeling soft lips go motionless against his, and Stiles yanked back in a second, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Ah, shit, fuck, dude I’m so sorry. I just read that different and decided to make a move, but I’m an idiot so you can totally kick me out of bed now and—”

Derek moved forward and caught Stiles’s lips again, cutting him off mid-sentence. Stiles startled, froze, then groaned, the sound sending a shiver down Derek’s spine. Derek pulled himself over Stiles, deepening the kiss with a nip at his lower lip, and smirked when Stiles groaned again. 

“Oh, fuck, Derek—”

“Oh fuck?”

Stiles keened, shoving his face upward so Derek had to straddle the boy in order to not fall off. Stiles tangled a hand through his hair and pulled Derek in hungrily, a hum on his lips as he kissed him again. 

Derek growled, his hands carding through Stiles’s hair too, catching a handful so he could tilt Stiles’s head back and reveal a long expanse of pale neck that his teeth skated down, all the way to his collarbone. Derek latched on there, pressure light as to not break skin, but hard enough to leave a mark. Stiles moaned and arched up against him. Derek’s wolf howled.

“Derek, fuck, I can’t—”

Derek caught his lips again, tongue tracing along where they always curved up into a grin. Stiles warbled off into a series of nonsensical words and his scent changed. It was electric and crackling with intensity now, and his skin was warm to touch. Derek didn’t think he’d ever felt so fragile when kissing someone before. Stiles could take him apart with one word and Derek didn’t even care.

Stiles had somehow gotten one hand underneath his shirt and traced his fingers up Derek’s torso. His touch was clumsy and gentle. Fumbling and nervous. Derek was lost in it all.

He wasn’t sure at what point they broke apart, only that a few minutes later, Stiles's lips were off his own and Derek was still hunched over, trying to steady his breaths as Stiles panted beneath him, eyes hazy and expression dazed. Derek dropped his forehead against the boy’s, closing his eyes and breathing him in, and Stiles chuckled, tilting his chin up to kiss Derek’s nose. 

“You’re such a sap, Sourwolf, I swear.”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, moving sideways to collapse against the mattress. Stiles grinned over at him, eyes bright in the dim light. 

“Also, in case it wasn’t clear, that was a yes. I’ll totally anchor your wolfy ass to this good green earth.”

Derek turned his face into the pillow, stifling another groan. Stiles’ body shook as he laughed and he moved closer, burrowing his face into the crook of Derek’s neck.

“Not to mention you’re stuck with me now.”

“I’ve been stuck with you since Peter opened the back of his car two weeks ago.”

“Dude! He didn’t even secure me with a seatbelt?”

Derek turned his face to the side, staring at the top of Stiles’s head exasperation. “You were ‘secured’ with duct tape in the back of a car. I don’t think a seatbelt would have mattered.”

“Kinky.”

“Don’t ever use that word again when in relation to my uncle.”

Stiles huffed against his skin. Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders, where it fit between the small of his back, and pulled him closer. Stiles melted into the embrace. “You know, I like you, Sourwolf.”

“I think I noticed that.”

“No really,” Stiles said, a little sleepily. “I like you. You anchor me too.”

Derek smiled. His chest was comfortably warm in acceptance of that statement and he decided this was the exact way he wanted to hear something like that. Safe, content, and warm in his own bed. For now, at least. It was enough. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“G’nite, Sourwolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kissing scenes are not my forte and I've actually never written smut before (which I plan on doing? for this fic? maybe?) I'm actually just pulling stuff out of my ass at this point but. Um. Was that terrible? Either way, I hope you're all doing well <3 And staying safe!


	17. Together (Together?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is determined, Derek is hit with an unseen blow, Deaton sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I vanished for a hot minute, I'm so sorry. I got a little carried away with starting an entire new rainstorm of other Sterek works. Although because my brain sucks, that's totally what I do, and it will probably happen again. Apologies in advance. Also, I adore you all!

Stiles woke up to his face smashed up against a large, warm, bulky frame of werewolf muscles. 

Though, it took him a moment to actually wake up,  _ wake up.  _ Stiles blinked a few times, closed his eyes again in content when he smelled the faint scents of pine and aftershave, and then it hit him like a brick. His eyes flew open again and Stiles went so rigid, he felt like a brick himself. 

Stiles was turned toward Derek, face nestled in the crook of his neck, and the Alpha had his arms wrapped around him so tight, Stiles couldn’t hope to escape without notice. Not that he really wanted to. Derek was warm and comfortable, and Stiles felt safe wrapped in his arms. The werewolf’s chest rose and fell in soft breaths and he enveloped Stiles like a giant blanket, the scruff of his stubble making Stiles’s forehead itch.

_ Okay,  _ Stiles thought silently.  _ This is fine.  _

Because it was, right? Both parties had been fully consenting and although Stiles had nearly had a heart attack when he’d kissed Derek, Derek had kissed him back. Stiles's memory got a little blurry after that point, because he’d been so shocked and excited when he’d actually felt Derek’s lips on his own, he’d short-circuited for a second. Which really shouldn’t be that surprising.

Stiles’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest when Derek moved slightly, growling a little in his sleep. But it was more soft and rumbly than threatening, and Stiles felt himself melt a little. Why did the damn Alpha have to be so adorable when he slept?

Stiles burrowed down deeper underneath the blanket when Derek shifted. He kind of just wanted to go back to sleep— but suddenly, he heard loud footsteps approaching the door. In a panic, Stiles burrowed even deeper, so he was hidden by both Derek’s large frame and the blankets, and then the door swung open. Stiles froze.

“Derek,” a voice said. Stiles recognized it as Cora’s and died a little bit inside. “Derek, you furry asshole, get the hell up. We’ve still got company.”

Derek groaned and lifted his head, and the blankets slid down a little. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the Alpha’s body go rigid as he looked down at Stiles, and then heard Cora’s sharp intake of breath. For a moment, none of them moved. Then;

_ “Stiles?” _

“Oh shit,” Stiles breathed. Derek’s breaths puffed against the top of his head and Stiles realized the bastard was  _ laughing. _

“Derek, dammit!” Cora shouted. “You— I— agh!”

Stiles winced as she turned around and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her. He laid still for a second, still feeling Derek’s body rumble with soft laughter, and finally turned his chin up to glare at the man. “You’re a terrible person.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Cora’s going to eat me.”

“Cora won’t eat you,” Derek said, the laughter fading from his voice, even though he was still smiling. His hair was all mussed up and there were still lines of sleep around his eyes, and it was too adorable to be fair. “I don’t think so, at least.”

“Um, not comforting, asshole! You’re supposed to say something along the lines of  _ ‘don’t worry, I won’t let her eat you’  _ or something like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Derek said. “I won’t let her eat you. Or something like that.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, still glaring. “I’ve come to the realization that morning Derek is a sassy Derek, and I’d appreciate that under any other circumstances other than my probable impending doom.”

“I won’t let her eat you,” Derek said seriously. “Don’t worry.”

“You suck.”

“Have we actually established that yet?”

“Oka-aay!” Stiles felt his face go hot and shoved at Derek’s chest, trying to throw him off. Derek only chuckled and held on tighter and Stiles wiggled a bit before going limp. He sighed, resting his cheek against Derek’s chest, and closed his eyes. “You know we can’t stay in bed forever, right?”

“Do you really want to deal with the rest of the pack?”

“The Hale-McCall pack,” Stiles said, smiling softly. Then the expression faded. “Dude, none of those assholes are morning people. Do you know how terrible this is going to be?”

“Which is why we stay in bed.”

“They’re a bunch of werewolves, you dumbass, they’ll be able to sniff us out. Oh my god, both of us.”

Derek tensed a little and looked down at him. Stiles forced himself to open his eyes back up and pull his face from Derek’s chest, turning it to meet his gaze. To his surprise, Derek looked a little worried. And nervous, maybe. “Is that okay?”

“Is what okay?”

“It being us. Both of us.”

“Oh, you idiot,” Stiles said, feeling everything go warm. “It perfectly alright with me.”

Derek’s eyes flickered. “Yeah?”

“As long as you make sure Cora doesn’t eat me.”

Derek rolled his eyes and finally let go, shoving Stiles back. Stiles squawked and nearly rolled out of bed, scrabbling for purchase as best as he could. Derek was smirking as the Alpha pushed himself up, shirt riding up a little. Stiles felt his mouth go dry and just stared, all senses going blank for a moment. Derek caught his stare and his smirk widened. “See something you like?”

“Shut up, Sourpuss, and let me lust.” 

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Derek huffed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and cracking his neck. Stiles shuddered at the sound and all but stumbled out of bed too. He’d just stood up, only in his sweatpants, when the door slammed open again. Stiles squawked as Erica gazed inside with a wide grin and then cackled, sticking her head out the door again. “Cora was right! They finally slept together!”

“Oh my god,” Stiles mumbled, flopping back onto the bed. “Emphasis on sleeping, you nosy assholes!”

Erica grinned at him and Derek growled from the other side of the room, flashing his eyes when she glanced over. The beta rolled her eyes, but turned around and left, though Stiles saw Isaac peek in before the door slammed shut. He glowered.

“Derek, I hate you betas.”

“Believe me,” Derek said, changing and throwing him a shirt. “I regret ever choosing them.”

After Stiles threw it on, he considered trying to stagger when both of them went out, but he decided that was a dumb idea. The entirety of the apartment probably already knew by now anyway. And Stiles didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, dammit. He was allowed to cuddle— kiss— whatever— whoever he wanted. The rest of the pack could suck it up.

The third floor consisted of a good half of the pack. Danny was looking over from the counter with an unfair smug on his face and Malia was beside him, eyes narrowed distrustfully. Erica was grinning while Boyd politely averted his eyes, and Stiles decided enough was enough.

“It was sleeping,” he said, glaring at each of them. “Get your furry heads out of the gutter.”

“Only sleeping?” Liam asked. Stiles shot him a look of death.

“You are a child. I will not discuss anything with you.”

“I’m only two years younger than you.”

“Exactly,” Stiles said. “Child. Anyone else?”

“Do you do any climbing?” Danny asked, eyes glinting mischievously. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“That’s disturbing. No.”

“Did Derek do any climbing?” Erica chirped. Derek growled at Stiles's side.

“No,” Stiles said. Isaac looked put off.

“Did you guys seriously not do anything other than sleeping?”

Stiles opened his mouth; then closed it. Danny’s face lit up and Erica crooned, making Derek growl again. He must've flashed the eyes too, because she rolled her eyes and backed off, and Isaac flashed his neck. Liam looked between them, eyes a little wide, and Stiles resisted facepalming.

_ Child.  _ Literal child.

Scott came into the kitchen a few seconds later, Allison at his side as he rubbed his eyes. Stiles winced and Scott blinked a few times, glanced around the room, and then furrowed his brows. “What? Did I miss something?”

“No,” Stiles said. “Nothing. Shall we eat breakfast?”

Danny grinned at him from over at the counter. Stiles flipped him the bird and vanished into the kitchen, scrounging around for where he hid the best cereals. He came back out, bowl in hand, a few seconds later and Malia jumped up, moving over and taking it from his hands. The second Stiles opened his mouth in protest, she flashed her blue eyes.

“One word and I tell Scott you and Derek did it.”

_ “You two did what?” _

Malia smirked and shrugged, turning away with his bowl. Stiles stared at the void of nothingness and Scott began to freak out, the entire room filling with voices trying to talk over each other. The Hale-McCall pack, ladies and gentlemen; a bunch of children.

God, Stiles hated everything sometimes.

* * *

They brought Deaton into the fold later on that day. The druid seemed reluctant at first, but he warmed up when meeting Scott. Stiles could see Derek’s hurt at this, even as the Alpha covered it up with grunts and growls, so Stiles tried to stay as close to his side as he could. And give Deaton a good death glare or two whenever the druid looked over.

Stiles had gotten a map too. He laid it down on the coffee table and messed around with his laptop Scott had brought from their loft. It took a little while, but he eventually found the mark he’d seen when looking through Kali’s eyes; a Celtic druid symbol that belonged to an old bank that’d shut down years ago. It was in the middle of nowhere New York, surrounded by abandoned buildings and lots of absolutely nothing. Stiles scowled.

“Of course, they’d choose a place like this. They can be as villainous as they want and nobody would even know.”

“Villainous?” Jackson said, smirking. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he said, pulling the map closer and pointing at the bank's location. “So they chose a place here. I know Deucalion saw me, but I don’t know if he realized I saw the bank symbol or not. He could be expecting us, he could have no idea we're coming.”

“But he has some idea we were planning on working together,” Isaac said. “I mean, he visited Scott with an ultimatum. He’s going to know the moment Scott skips their next meeting that he’s not agreeing.”

“Wait,” Stiles said, blinking at Scott. “Next meeting?”

Scott blinked a few times. “Oh yeah.”

“You just forgot to mention that yesterday?” Stiles asked, staring at him. Sometimes, he didn’t understand what went on in his friend’s mind. “Dude! This is the perfect opportunity!”

Everyone that was present at the meeting stared at him. Stiles raised a brow.

“What?”

“Um, Stiles?” Allison said, studying his face. She looked uncertain. “Are you suggesting we go after Deucalion? This soon?”

“What else do we do, sit around and twiddle our thumbs?”

“It’s a little fast,” Danny said. “Isn’t it?”

“Dude, he’s kidnapped me, attacked Derek, basically blackmailed Scott, and you think it’s too soon?” Stiles’s voice rose an octave but he didn’t really care. “For all we know, his next move could be killing someone as a point. And I'm not letting anyone die.”

“Stiles,” Allison said gently, but Stiles shook his head.

“We’re working together now. Remember what Malia said? Deucalion should be scared of us. We can take him out.”

Malia looked a little proud that he’d mentioned her. Standing next to her, on the other hand, Kira didn’t look so convinced. The kitsune worried her bottom lip. “What if he doesn’t come alone?”

“Then we kick some Alpha ass.”

Quiet looks went all the way around the room. Stiles set his jaw and looked at Deaton, who’d been silent the entire time despite coming into the meeting acting like he knew everything and was the wisest of them all. Stiles raised a brow.

“What do you know about Deucalion, Deaton?”

Deaton looked surprised. “I’m sorry?”

“Deucalion knew Derek. He knew the Hale’s,” Stiles said, not looking away. “And you were their Emissary once. So have you met him in the past? Or at least heard of him before now?”

Deaton’s eyes flickered slightly, but he nodded all the same. Stiles heard Derek grow lowly at the back of his throat. Deaton didn’t look fazed though. “There was a time before he lost his sight that he wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t honorable but… he had a pack. And a conscience. All of the Alphas did.”

“You knew the others too?”

“I remember Kali,” Deaton said. “And Ennis. The twins are new to me, but the others used to be Alphas with packs as well. Packs that respected them.”

“So what happened?”

“Deucalion lost his eyesight,” Deaton said. “One of his betas decided to test his leadership and in a loss of mind, Deucalion killed them all.”

Silence fell over the room. But Stiles kept pressing. “And then?”

“There was an accident with Ennis,” Deaton said, his eyes flickering to Derek. The Hale Alpha looked confused for a second, then his face cleared and he looked horrified. Stiles blinked, but he thought he was the only one to notice, because nobody said anything. Deaton continued like nothing had happened. “Deucalion managed to convince Ennis and Kali to join him. They killed their own packs not two days after.”

“Oh my god,” Kira said softly. Beside her, Malia just looked both disgusted and a little intrigued.

“Does he have any weaknesses?” Lydia asked. “Anything we could exploit?”

“His eyesight,” Danny said. “Right?”

“Deucalion isn’t always blind,” Deaton said. Stiles tore his gaze away from Derek and looked at the druid in confusion.

“What?”

“Deucalion doesn't have his eyesight,” Deaton said, as elusive as ever. “But he isn’t always blind.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That this druid is a bad one,” Malia said grumpily. Deaton looked at her with narrowed eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Stiles sighed in frustration.

“Well, thanks for that, we’ll keep it in consideration. Anyone else?”

“I think we should do it,” Boyd said suddenly. It was the first time he’d spoken and everyone looked at him in shock. “I think we should go after Deucalion.”

“Boyd,” Isaac started, but Erica cut him off, eyes flashing gold.

“I agree.”

“Actually,” Jackson said. “So do I.”

Murmurs moved around the room. Some in agreement, some in denial. Stiles knew it was obvious where he stood but he let himself look at Derek, who’d gone silent after Deaton’s words earlier and was a little pale. Stiles reached out and touched his hand, tilting his head. Derek met his gaze with a small, fragile expression. Stiles threaded his fingers through his own and squeezed tightly.

He could feel Scott watching. But the other Alpha didn’t say anything. Derek swallowed before nodding and turning toward the others.

“I agree with my pack. This is something we need to do.”

All eyes went to Scott. The other Alpha; the other deciding vote if the packs were to work together. Scott looked at Stiles for a moment, his brown eyes unsure before turning trusting, and he nodded too. “We’ll do it.”

Stiles smiled and squeezed Derek’s hand tighter. Derek smiled slightly back.

Though the Alpha’s expression was still a little forced.


	18. Till the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has bad memories, Stiles is determined, and things... well, things happen.

So, they had a plan moving against the Alphas. The only problem was, after the pack meeting, Derek had all but vanished. 

Stiles wandered around the apartment and found himself on the roof. Derek stood on the other side with his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked over the city. Carefully, Stiles crossed over and stepped to his side. The Alpha didn’t look over.

“Are you okay with this?” Stiles asked. “You know… going after Deucalion and all?”

“It has to be done.”

“Yeah, but are you gonna be okay? The things that Deaton said—”

“Deaton doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Stiles blinked at him, surprised. But Derek still wouldn’t look at him and Stiles nodded quietly, following his gaze out. Carefully, he reached out and caught Derek’s hand. When the man didn’t pull away, Stiles intertwined long fingers with his own and squeezed. Derek closed his eyes, sighing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dude, you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“There was an accident years ago,” Derek said. “With Ennis.”

“The thing Deaton mentioned?”

“I was in love once,” Derek said quietly. Stiles’s throat tightened and he was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat from the way Derek winced. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed Derek’s hand again. 

“Go on?”

“We went to high school together,” Derek said. “She played the cello and was completely human. She had no idea what… I was.”

Stiles chewed on his lower lip. Derek clenched his jaw.

“Things got serious and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could see something with her. But then Peter found out and he— he thought she would make a good werewolf. My mother would never give her the bite, but Peter had his ways. And when all the Alphas gathered in Beacon Hills, he had Ennis bite her.”

Stiles’s heart stopped. Derek’s words were strangled with grief and he stared out at nothing. A spark of anger blossomed in Stiles’s stomach. He didn’t know what to say.

“Not everyone survives the bite,” Derek said softly. “She didn’t.”

“Derek, I—”

“I killed her,” Derek said. “She was in pain and dying too slow. My eyes aren’t golden underneath the red, Stiles, they’re blue. Blue because I took an innocent life.”

For a moment, Stiles didn’t know what to say or do. He stared at Derek and realized the Alpha really believed that. There were so many deaths on his shoulders; his family, his sister. And Paige was another. 

“Derek,” Stiles said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He wasn’t surprised that his words fell on deaf ears. Tugging on Derek’s hand, Stiles turned the man to face him and touched his cheek, forcing a smile. More and more, he wished he could ease the furrow between Derek’s brows. Comfort the way his eyes would get distant and it was like nothing could bring him back. 

“I promise, Derek,” Stiles said. “You’re not a killer.”

“If we find Deucalion and his pack,” Derek said. “I will be. I’ll kill him for the things he’s done.”

Stiles wanted to say that was different. Deucalion was a monster and they both knew that. But killing a killer would only create another, no matter how he tried to word it. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek and realized something, looking at Derek’s face.

He realized Derek would kill for him. For his family. For his pack. He would kill to protect those he loved. And Stiles realized he would too.

If it came down to it, Derek wouldn’t be the one taking a life, Stiles decided. There wouldn’t be an additional life put on his shoulders. Even if it was that of a monster. If it came down to it, Stiles was going to kill Deucalion.

And he didn’t think that’d bother him.

* * *

They’d faced a lot of things in the past. Him and Scott, that was. 

They’d faced a monster every other week back when they were in high school. Stiles had dealt with witches and warlocks and angry fairy-like things that he still wasn’t sure what they were to this day. Ever since Scott had been attacked by a rogue Alpha and their lives took a complete one-eighty, Stiles had been dealing with supernatural shit.

This was no different. But at the same time, it was everything they’d ever faced plus some more.

“Hey, Scotty?” Stiles said, facing the abandoned mall Scott had led them to. It was nearly dark out; but Scott said he still couldn’t smell anyone other than them. Deucalion had yet to show up.

“Yeah, man?”

“I just… whatever happens in there, I’ve got you back. I’ve always got your back.”

Scott gave him a confused look, brows furrowed. “I know.”

“And even though things have changed recently,” Stiles said, despite the nervous itch underneath his skin. “You are my brother, Scott. You know that, right?”

Scott nodded quietly. Stiles forced a smile, clapping him on the back.

“Then let's go kick some Alpha ass, yeah?”

Scott’s eyes flashed red in answer and he started forward. Stiles grinned and followed, baseball bat held loosely in one hand, a bag of mountain ash in his pocket, and sparks dancing along the tips of his fingers.

The mall was silent and deserted. Scott snapped the lock like it was made of butter and Stiles hefted his bat, heart thudding against his chest. The building inside was quiet; too quiet. His skin itched.

“Scotty,” Stiles whispered. “Is anyone here?”

Scott glanced sideways, but didn’t answer. His brows were furrowed and his face was half-shifted. They followed the dusty hallway toward the escalator. The mall opened up around them and Stiles gripped his bat tighter.

A figure stood at the top of the escalator leading toward the second floor. Scott slowed to a stop and Stiles froze next to him.

Deucalion’s eyes glowed red in the dim light. Stiles’s breaths caught in his throat.

The last time he’d seen that, he’d been looking through Kali’s eyes and the face he’d seen was enough to give Stiles nightmares. He looked at Deucalion and almost found it hard to believe there was something so dark hidden behind his smirking face. Except, maybe it wasn’t. Deucalion had shown what kind of man he was.

Monster, more like it. The face seemed appropriate.

“Ah, Scott,” Deucalion said, smiling. “I see you brought a friend. And a different one this time. Tell me, Stiles, does Derek know you’re here?”

Stiles didn’t say anything, knowing Deucalion would hear him lie. He clenched his jaw and held the blind man’s gaze, knowing what was hidden behind those dark shades. A shiver ran down his spine as Deucalion chuckled.

“I’d like to say I assume that’s a no. But we’d both be lying then, wouldn’t we?”

Scott stiffened and growled lowly, stepping forward. Stiles hissed his name but the boy ignored him. His claws had come out and were poking his palms. “You threatened my pack, Deucalion. You said Stiles wasn’t safe. You’ll regret lying to me.”

“Oh, dear boy,” Deucalion said, tilting his head. “Stiles isn’t safe. You did just bring him straight into the lion’s den, did you not?”

Scott snarled. Deucalion suddenly blinked and then grinned; wide and full of amusement.

“Oh, Scott, you brought your entire pack? My dear boy, that wasn’t very smart.”

Stiles’s blood turned cold. There was a chorus of growls from the shadows and a dozen glowing eyes came to life; gold and blue. Red as Derek stepped with his betas at his sides. His eyes flicked to Stiles for only a second.

“You didn’t keep to the terms of our agreement,” Deucalion said. His eyes flashed red. “It’s a good thing I didn’t either.”

Stiles’s heart sunk. But he couldn’t say he was surprised.

Kali took her place at Deucalion’s side and Stiles spotted Ennis to the right. To the left were the twins, red eyes bright in the darkness. 

Kali’s claws were speckled with blood and she bared her teeth in a snarl.

“Really,” she said, voice echoing off the rafters. “You should avoid bringing pups to a dog fight. Sometimes, they get hurt.”

“No,” Stiles said. She’d come from where Liam had been _.  _ Liam and the others.

“Don’t worry,” Kali said. “When they die, it’ll be by their Alpha’s hand, not mine. But I can promise you they all hurt quite prettily.”

A snarl built up in Stiles’s throat. Electricity hummed underneath his skin.

“So,” Deucalion said. “Should we negotiate?”

And Ennis howled.

Stiles wasn’t sure who moved first. Only that there was a blur of movement and then a series of sharp growls and pained roars filled the air. Stiles found himself face to face with Kali in less than a seconds and he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Hi there, Little Red,” she said in a purr. “Should I add more bruises to the last ones I left?”

“Bruises?” Stiles asked, circling her. “On this terrifyingly pale skin? My body is a canvas, Footsies, and I can promise you the last time we met was pitiful compared to the things I’ve faced when I was in  _ high school.” _

Kali’s eyes flashed at that. A look of irritation and challenge gleaming in the red depths of them. “Then I suppose we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

Stiles didn’t like that idea. 

He stumbled back as one of her clawed feet cut through the air, the disgusting sharpness of them barely missing his neck. Stiles was pretty sure that would kill rather than bruise, but he didn’t have a chance to protest before she was launching herself forward again.

Yelping, Stiles ducked another swing. Kali’s eyes glowed.

“I don’t know what Deucalion sees in you,” she said, baring her teeth in a snarl. “But I’m sure he won’t be able to hold it against me if an accident happens during the fight. For example, if his prized emissary accidentally had his throat ripped out.”

“Actually, I’m sure he would be very offended at that,” Stiles said, dodging a swipe of claws. “So let’s keep it PG, shall we?”

Kali only hissed a laugh. Stiles clenched his jaw and threw himself forward.

Sparks danced around his fingertips and he swung his baseball bat with all his strength. Kali dodged the first blow but the second caught her across the back, and Stiles had never been so glad his bat was metal. It only dented a little instead of shattering fully.

He was also glad he’d doused it in wolfsbane.

Kali howled and turned to him with a murderous expression on her face. Stiles smirked nervously before stumbling back again. But before he could attack again, she kicked out his legs and Stiles fell hard to the ground. He groaned as his back cracked against the cold tiles and tried to shove himself up; only to freeze as she dropped her foot over his neck, claws holding him in place.

“Oh, little Spark,” Kali said, shaking her head. “You should’ve stayed out of the dog fight.”

“Are you calling yourself a mutt then?”

The Alpha growled and raised her hand, claws catching in the dim light. Stiles threw up his arms, trying to shield his face, when there was a sudden crackle of electricity. Sparks leaped from his fingers and connected with the light fixtures above, and Kali screamed as they connected with her chest.

The Alpha went flying back. Stiles laid there for a second, blinking in shock, before scrambling to his feet. Kali laid in a heap a few feet away, smoke rising from her limp body. Stiles couldn’t tell if she was still breathing or not, and the very thought made him feel sick. Swallowing hard, Stiles turned to the rest of the battle.

He wasn’t sure he could call it a battle.

Horror rose in his throat as he spotted Malia unconscious a few feet away, Kira fighting Ennis over her body. There was no sight of Allison or the newer, younger betas and Stiles could only hope she’d made it to the higher floors to get them out. Derek’s betas were defending themselves against the twins; and it didn’t seem to be going well.

Up on the higher floors, it was Derek and Scott against Deucalion. The blind Alpha had a face only half-shifted but it was still terrifying. 

Stiles started toward Kira first. But he didn’t make it in time before Ennis caught her in a backhand and the kitsune went sprawling. A shout rising in his throat, Stiles leaped toward them— and his collar was grabbed, his entire body yanked back. Before he could struggle, there was a set of claws against his neck and Stiles smelled smoke.

“Oh, little Spark,” Kali said. “You should’ve made sure I was dead.”

Stiles’s heart lodged in his throat. Kali threw back her head and howled, the sound echoing off the dark walls of the mall and ringing across the rafters. The battle slowed to a sudden stop and Stiles could’ve screamed.

_ No,  _ they couldn’t stop because of him. Not for him.

But Derek and Scott had both gone still. Stiles’s heart thudded in his chest and he could only stand still, feeling sharp claws bringing pinpricks of blood to the surface of his skin.

“Ah, Kali,” Deucalion said, sounding only slightly out of breath. “Well done.”

Kali purred in Stiles’s ear. He felt sick.

“So, this puts us at a crossroads then, doesn’t it?” Deucalion said, glancing over at Derek and Scott. “I kill the emissary keeping your packs together and checkmate your king. But then I loose my future emissary and have no queen. A rather hard decision, isn’t it?”

“Are you calling me a queen?” Stiles called, laughing weakly. “Because I’d have to say I’m rather flattered.”

“You should be,” Deucalkon said, no amusement in his voice. “The queen protects the king, after all. What happens when she’s gone?”

Kali’s claws dug in deeper. Stiles bit back a whimper at the sharp sting.

He’d like to say he wasn’t scared to die, but he was utterly terrified. Stiles had come into this mall knowing well enough what could happen, but there was a difference between knowing the risks and looking them in the eye.

And god, his death would drive his dad to an early grave. Or to the bottle again. Sometimes, Stiles didn’t know what was worse.

“But see, I don’t want to kill you, Stiles,” Deucalion said. “So say your two Alphas,” he turned toward Derek and Scott, “come with me. And we’ll call things even.”

Both Derek and Scott straightened. But Stiles jerked in Kali’s grip, forcing her claws even deeper. “No!”

Deucalion turned back, giving him an amused look. Stiles’s chest rose and fell in heavy gasps and he could feel little lines of blood running down his neck. And suddenly… suddenly, he stilled. On the floor above, he could see Derek watching him with a pale face. One that was so terrified and so conflicted at the same time.

One that Stiles wanted to touch, and comfort, and tell him everything was okay. Except right now, everything wasn’t okay.

Stiles clenched his jaw and realized that yes, the queen was an important piece. But the king was the endgame. And if he let Deucalion walk away with Scott and Derek, he was surrendering the game.

Stiles met Derek’s gaze and wished he could say out loud when he thought  _ ‘I’m so sorry’.  _ The fight wasn’t supposed to go like this. Things weren’t supposed to end this way.

But Stiles had played enough chess to know that sometimes, a piece had to be sacrificed. Chess was his game; he knew how to play it. And Deucalion couldn’t always see everything. He was still blind, after all.

He couldn’t beat Stiles if the game became his own.

Stiles swallowed hard, throat bobbing against Kali’s hold on his throat. Terror crashed over him in waves and his heart hammered against his chest. As if he could hear Stiles’s panic, Derek’s eyes narrowed. His head tilted an inch. 

Then he froze. Red eyes widened.

And with all eyes on where he stood, Stiles suddenly reached up and caught Kali’s hand. The female Alpha made a noise of surprise, Deucalion stiffened in shock, and Derek’s face turned horrified. Stiles hated that was the last thing he’d see.

Without hesitating, Stiles shoved her claws in deep and yanked sideways. He heard Scott shout his name and someone scream. It sounded like Erica.

And then all Stiles knew was pain. He saw red and collapsed sideways, and someone howled brokenly. No, not just someone. There were multiple howls filling the air. Surrounding him and choking out his breath until all Stiles could do was hear the pain of the pack. His pack.

And then all he knew was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, what did I do? I can promise, I'm asking the same thing. This fic doesn't really have a plan so... here we are? I swear, I vanished for like two months and then THIS scene made me inspired to finish the chapter. I don't know guys. At all.
> 
> Of course, comments and the support you guys leave makes my day! Did I rip your heart out? Have I freaked you out? Let me know! Or, come scream at me on Tumblr for ending the chapter this way.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


	19. Sometimes Thing Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up, the pack is torn, and Deaton is helpful for once.

Stiles was pretty sure he was dead.

Or at least, Stiles was pretty sure he  _ had  _ been dead. He woke up with the faint sound of voices around him and a pain in his head like one he’d never had before. It was like someone was constantly slamming a sledgehammer against his temple and Stiles couldn’t smother a groan, rolling onto his side and heaving up the contents of his stomach.

He heard a series of exclamations and someone caught his shoulder, a hand patting him on the back. Stiles groaned again and blinked through stars, drawing away from the smell. He rolled onto his back and waited for his stomach to settle down, pain still roaring through his head. 

But slowly, as the seconds ticked by, the feeling settled down to a dull ache. Only then could Stiles see straight.

He was in a bed, he realized, staring up at the ceiling. There were a bunch of faces swimming over where he laid and Stiles squinted, feeling sick again until they slowly stopped spinning in circles. Someone whispered something and they all drew back. All except one; Allison, he realized, looking down at him with concerned eyes.

“What—” Stiles said, and his voice cracked. He swallowed hard and tried again, a metallic taste in his mouth. “What happened?”

“My god, Stiles,” she said, brown eyes swimming with tears. “You’re alive.”

“Should I not be?”

“Should you not be—  _ should you not be?”  _ Another female voice said and Stiles recognized it as Erica’s. He screwed up his face and tried to sit up, but the motion wracked his body with pain again and he laid still for a moment, waiting for it to pass. Erica’s face came into view and she looked  _ pissed. _

“Hey, Catwoman,” Stiles said with a small smile. “You mad at me?”

“Dammit, Stiles, I’m fucking pissed!”

Yeah, she was pissed. Stiles really had seen that coming. Even so, he winced, and tried to sit up again. This time, he managed it, leaning heavily against the headboard of the bed. He was in Derek’s room, he realized, and he didn’t dare look sideways off the bed. The rest of the pack— most of them, at least— had gathered on the other side. 

Probably a good idea, from the smell.

Stiles blinked a few times before the memories came crashing back. His chest tightened and his hand flew up to his throat to feel what could only be the slight bump of ragged scars. Stiles’s heart thudded against his chest and he looked at Allison.

“What happened? How am I not dead?”

“By all accounts, you should be,” she said. “In fact, you were for a little bit. That’s what Deaton thinks at least.”

“Deaton’s here?”

“I’m here, Mr. Stilinski,” came the deep voice. Deaton moved through the crowd to stand near the bed and he regarded Stiles with unreadable eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I tried to rip out my own throat and… failed?”

Erica winced sharply at that. Stiles instantly felt bad, looking down at his hands. But then he looked sharply back up.

“Scott and Derek. Where are they?”

Allison’s face tightened. Stiles glanced around the room and realized they were nowhere in sight. They were gone. They were gone and he… and he… 

“Deucalion thought you were dead,” Allison said softly. “His face changed and he flew into a rage. He threatened to kill Derek’s betas and the rest of Scott’s pack if they didn’t leave with him. Scott… Scott agreed.”

“And Derek?”

“They took him,” Erica said, sounding small. “But he didn’t go willingly.”

Stiles’s heart twisted. He felt his vision turning blurred again and looked away, swallowing hard. That wasn’t supposed to be how things happened. Stiles had thought if he took himself out of the game— if Deucalion didn’t have an upper hand— 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could’ve died.”

“Yeah, well, that had been the point,” Stiles said. Allison’s face paled and he chuckled humorlessly. “I should’ve killed Kali. I should’ve made sure she was dead. But I didn’t and I couldn’t let Deucalion have the upper hand. I thought if he didn’t—”

“He had the upper hand from the moment he brought his entire pack to the fight,” Deaton said. “It was a valiant effort, trying to take them all out. But it was bound to fail.”

“You let us walk in there in the first place!”

“I spoke to Scott about the dangers,” Deaton said. “I’m sure it was understood.”

“Bullshit,” Stiles said, glaring at him. “We all agreed to the fight as a pack and you didn’t say a word. I swear to god, you’re lucky I can’t walk right now, because I’d—”

“You’d what, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said, looking tired. “Might I remind you, it was your plan to take on the Alphas in the first place. I made my statements and later that day, I made them to Scott again. I am no Alpha here, Stiles. My decision wasn’t final.”

“And now both Alphas are gone,” Stiles said, his voice cracking. He dropped back into the bed. “Because we failed.”

Silence fell over the room. Suddenly, Stiles couldn’t take the stares of the others. But they hadn’t failed, not really. They’d fought and defended themselves. Stiles had been the one who failed. He'd given himself a weak moment and dragged the entire pack down with him. The guilt was crushing, cutting off his air and making his vision blur.

He couldn’t take their stares. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Boyd,” Stiles said, searching the gathered crowd. The dark-skinned beta pushed his way to the front and Stiles swallowed hard. “I am sorry.”

“Stiles, don’t.”

“But you’re Derek’s second,” Stiles said. “You’re Derek’s and Allison was Scott’s. You two— you two have too—”

Stiles trailed off, but Boyd’s face cleared and realization entered his eyes. He nodded and reached out, fingers ghosting over the back of Stiles’s neck, and Stiles closed his eyes without meaning to. The touch was comforting. Something he hadn’t expected to feel again.

Allison pushed herself up at his side and ushered the others out the door. Soon, it was only Erica and Deaton who remained. Erica gave Deaton a fierce look and Stiles a pained one, before whining at the back of her throat and following the others.

Stiles didn’t know what Deaton was still doing around. But he didn’t even want to look at the man, turning away. Until a hand touched his shoulder.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said, and then sighed. “Stiles.”

Stiles rolled back over. “Look, I messed up. I really don’t need a lecture right now, okay?”

“I’m not planning on lecturing you, Stiles,” he said. “I imagine you’ve already suffered enough.”

“Not nearly,” Stiles said. Deaton’s face turned flat.

“You do realize they’re not dead yet, don’t you? Lying in bed moping isn’t going to fix things.”

Stiles blinked at the man in surprise. Out of all the time he’d spent with Deaton and all the different attitudes he’d seen on the man, this was not one of them. This… parental expression. Stiles pushed himself up with a wince and raised an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re the Hale-McCall pack emissary, are you not? You made that decision when you brought the two packs together.”

“Yeah, and look where that’s gotten them.”

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said. “I think that’s quite enough.”

Stiles clenched his jaw. Deaton sighed.

“I’m in no position to tell you what to do, I understand that.”

“No,” Stiles said, startling himself. But he was angry now. “No, you’re not. Because you were an emissary once too and you didn’t do any better than I have. You have no right to tell me what I’m doing wrong or what I should’ve done better. In fact, I don’t even know why you took me on in the first place. I could barely figure out mountain ash, how the hell was I supposed to fight against a bunch of Alphas? Why would Deucalion think I could ever hold the pack together?”

Deaton let him rant in silence. By the time Stiles clamped his mouth shut again, chest heaving, the man’s eyes were soft. Stiles dropped his gaze.

“Sorry. I just… I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t take you on in the first place,” Deaton said, a gentle reminder. “In fact, I hadn’t planned on coming back to the Hales for a long time after treating your injuries from the Alphas. Except, then I came back to a room with a boy wielding an obvious spark, and realized maybe I’d come in the first place for a reason.”

“You make it sound all fated or something stupid like that,” Stiles said with a tired scoff. He reached up and touched his neck gingerly, reeling at the bump of skin underneath his fingers. “How long has it been since the fight?”

“Two days.”

Stiles clenched his jaw. “Why aren’t I dead?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Deaton said. “In fact, when you were brought back here, those were already healed.”

Stiles counted four streaks underneath his fingers. His breaths clogged. “I did it so she’d kill me. So Deucalion couldn’t use me against the others.”

“Deucalion would’ve left with Derek and Scott no matter what you did.”

“Is it too late to get them back?”

“That’s not my decision to make,” Deaton said. “But Stiles, I feel I must remind you that those were the claws of an Alpha dug through your skin. You should be dead, not just a little scarred. And the Alpha pack believes that you are. Dead, that is.”

Stiles clenched his jaw. Some little voice in the back of his mind whispered that could be a good thing. He could use that to his advantage.

But did he even have an advantage?

Stiles swung his legs over the bed and bit back a small noise of pain. Deaton stepped back, not looking surprised at the movement, but one hand was still offered out. Stiles took it grateful and swayed on his feet for a second before moving over to the mirror.

He was terrified to look into it for a moment. But slowly, carefully, Stiles forced himself to look forward and sucked in a breath as he caught his reflection.

Four white slashes cut across his throat and left jagged scars. Stiles could see the place where Kali's claws had entered and where they’d left. He touched the skin carefully and then drew back like he’d been burned. These wouldn’t be the first scars he’d ever gotten, but they were the most obvious. He’d never go out in public or look at himself again without this reminder.

Of the time he should’ve died.

“Can I ever make them go away?” Stiles said, looking at Deaton. The man pursed his lips.

“You made them seal up in the first place.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I don’t know what you’re capable of, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said truthfully. “I’ve been surprised every day since I’ve met you and I imagine I will continue to be for every day we continue to know each other.”

Stiles looked back into the mirror, lowering his hand. They made him look more threatening; although it might be the black circles underneath his eyes and the pale tint to his skin that was doing that too. Stiles swallowed hard, unsure for the first time in a while what kind of person he was looking at.

“How do I get Scott and Derek back?”

“That would involve facing Deucalion and his pack again.”

“What about the pack? My pack?”

Deaton raised a brow, studying his face. “What about them?”

“What do they need?”

“Right now, they need an Alpha,” Deaton said, and Stiles looked at him in confusion. The man continued with a shrug. “They need someone to take charge; both packs together, not a leader from each. A pack is nothing without its Alpha.”

Stiles couldn’t help but shudder at that. Deucalion had said that exact thing before. But suddenly, it sunk in. Stiles looked back at Deaton sharply. “That goes both ways.”

“I’m sorry?”

“That goes both ways,” Stiles said, more to himself than the druid. “A pack is nothing without its Alpha. Deucalion needs his pack. And they need him.”

Deaton didn’t say a word. Stiles blinked and started toward the door, but hesitated another second before pulling it open. He glanced back at Deaton, who was watching him with a quiet expression on his face. 

“What does the pack need? My pack?”

“A leader.”

“Could an emissary ever become that?”

“Stiles,” Deaton said, chuckling softly. “That’s what the emissaries were made to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me on Tumblr!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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